


Nightwing - The Way Back Home

by ClipD



Series: DC Triumphant [1]
Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Birds of Prey (Comic), DCU, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: A lot of Flashbacks, Angst, F/M, Gen, Guilt, In Medias Res, Old Flames, Slow Burn Romance, estranged family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2018-12-07 21:15:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11632065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClipD/pseuds/ClipD
Summary: Dick Grayson left Gotham, Batman and Robin behind four years ago. He is now the vigilante Nightwing.When the crime boss of Bludhaven disappears, a war breaks out between the other criminal organizations and a new player who is more vicious than the city had ever seen. Nightwing rolls into town with the intent of cleaning up the poverty and crime ridden city.While dealing with murderous mercenaries and corrupt cops, he never expected the visit from a friend from his old life. Someone precious he left behind when he roared out of Gotham. Someone who reminds him of his greatest regret.Will Dick be able to save Bludhaven and will she be able to show him the way home?





	1. Chapter 1

The pier outside of Chicago was seemingly abandoned in the dead of night; at least it should have been. Skyscrapers lighted up the horizon as the sounds of cars buzzed in the distance. A pair of black SUVs were parked outside of the dockside warehouse. They stood out like a broken thumb; all shiny and new sitting in front of the rusted, dilapidated structure. Two burly, dangerous looking men stood stoically beside the vehicles. 

Inside a group of hard looking men stood around a couple crates marked with the logo of LEXCORP's military subsidiary. The way they held themselves didn't suggest they were expecting trouble, but if they did find it, they would be ready.

A grizzled middle-aged man stepped up to the crate, “May I?”

“Be my guest.” Another man replied. He was dressed in a black business suit, but despite his attire, he had the naturally threatening way about him as the rest of the men.

The grizzled man unlatched the cover and looked inside. Within the crate were several assault rifles all lined up and neatly arranged. He picked one out, looked it over and smirked in satisfaction. He placed the butt against his shoulder and swung it around, feeling the weight of the weapon.

“The NW-52. Next years model, of course.” The man in the suit said as he smiled, “Constructed of advanced polymers, cutting the weight by half. Next generation recoiling reducing tech makes hitting your target easy as pie.”

The grizzled man pointed the weapon at the other man and pulled the trigger. There was only a click as it was unloaded. He laughed as he returned the rifle to its crate. He picked out a small box that was also sitting in the case. Opening it, he found a set of bullets with pointed red tips. He licked his lips in anticipation as he pulled one out and looked it over.

“Like that do ya?” Suit asked, “Tungsten rounds; it can rip through even the best body armour and then pass through the guy standing behind. The GCPD won't know what hit 'em.”

He put the bullet back in its box and the box back into the crate. He looked behind him and motioned to his subordinate standing behind. He walked up, carrying a duffel bag and placed the bag on an unopened crate. With shining eyes, the man in the suit approached and unzipped the bag. Within the bag, there were a few dozen stacks of hundred dollar bills. He flicked through a stack and grinned in satisfaction.

Outside by the vehicles, one of the guards was playing a game on his smartphone. The sound of cheerful music and the high pitched voice of the mascot clashed with the serious and grim tone of the midnight illegal weapons deal. The other, still waiting on guard, looked over to the other side of the car at him and rolled his eyes. “Amateur,” he whispered. To his surprise, he was pulled back. He was only able to let out a yelp before he was knocked unconscious. 

The other guard dropped his phone at the yell and pulled a pistol out of his coat. He held the weapon in front of him, ready to fill someone with holes. Coming around the car, he spotted the unmoving legs of the other guard and called, “Hey, man you okay?”

“Don't worry, he's just taking a nap,” an new voice said behind him.

The guard spun his gun around to meet the unknown person. A flash in the dark came down hard on his wrists and the weapon dropped from his hands. The last thing he saw before unconsciousness hit him was a black gloved fist coming speeding towards his face.

“I heard you was working out of the 'haven,” the grizzled man said as his men moved the crates into a cargo truck. “Some crazy shit's been going down there, I hear.”

“Why you think I'm getting out?” Business suit replied, zipping up the duffel bag. “I ain't gonna end up in the river with my head twisted backwards. Na, man. It's the west coast for me. Flight leaves in the morning.”

The lights in the building suddenly went out and the men were bathed in darkness. They stumbled and yelped as the only light was the dim moonlight filtered through the filthy skylights. The thugs pulled their weapons out as a few searched the blackness for flashlights.

“I hope you got refundable tickets,” A voice, unknown to all the men, called out in the dark, “because you're going to miss your plane.”

“Who the hell—“ Grizzled said as he scanned the building with the only flashlight. He brought the beam of light to the rafters and it illuminated a shape. He didn't know what it was, but he yelled and the other men opened fire. The figure darted out of the light, avoiding the bullets and and was lost to them.

“It's the Bat,” black suit whined in a quavering voice, “It's the Goddam Bat!”

“I can't be. The Bat only works in Gotham.”

Behind him, grizzled heard grunts and what sounded like impacts against flesh. He spun the light around to find one of his men unconscious on the floor. With quickening pulse and a cold sweat, he erratically searched the area with the flashlight, but found nothing.

“What the hell are you idiots doing,” He yelled at his men, “Find him!”

The men fanned out, trying to find the intruder despite having no illumination other than the one flashlight. One thug brushed his foot against something. He jumped back, ready to fire, but found one of his buddies also knocked out. He breathed in to call out, but before he could utter a sound, the figure dropped silently behind him.

A scream rang out in the darkness. Grizzled ran to the source of the sound, gun in one hand and flashlight in the other. The rest of the men followed closely behind him. They found their man moaning in pain clutching at his arm. The limb had been bent in an unnatural angle. His glossed over eyes indicated he had also suffered a concussion.

“What the hell! What the hell!” one thug yelled.

“It's the Bat!” Another added in a high pitched scream.

Behind them, a thug in the back was grabbed and his face rammed into a metal beam. The sound of the impact sent the four remaining men spinning to see what the sound was. Once again, all they could find was the unconscious body of their comrade.

“Where the hell is he!?” A thug yelled.

His question was quickly answered as a projectile shot out from the darkness and embedded itself in his shoulder. He fell backwards and as he did, he squeeze the trigger to his automatic rifle. The rifle sprayed bullets into the ceiling and sent flashes of light through the space. The three remaining men, at their wit's end, responded by firing their weapons randomly in the hopes one stray bullet would find it's mark.

Grizzled man spotted the figure in the flashes of gunfire. He tried to call out, but his voice was muffled by the gunfire. As he took aim at the last place he saw the figure, a baton flew towards his face. It hit him square in the forehead and he was instantly knocked out.

The man in the black suit's gun stopped firing as the magazine clicked empty. With shaking hands he tried to reload the weapon. As his shaking hands were trying to get the clip in straight, he saw the figure come up at the last other man still standing. The thug raised his rifle at the figure, but it batted the weapon upwards. The thug pulled the trigger and in the strobe light-like flashes of the gunshots, he saw the figure send several perfectly placed strikes at the man's torso and head. The thug collapsed like a rag doll as glass shards rained down from the skylight.

Without another thought, the man turned and ran. His panicked flight only took him less than a dozen feet as he felt a sharp pain in the back of his calf and fell forward. He twisted his head around to see a metal object embedded in his leg. It looked kind of like those throwing things the Bat used, but a little different. From what he could comprehend under the fog of pain, it looked more like a bird than a bat.

He didn't have much time to muse on his situation as as the figure was coming at him. The other guy had hit the ancient dust-covered skylight with his wild firing and the moonlight streamed through the ceiling and finally illuminated the figure. He didn't have a massive hulking frame like people said of the Bat. He was lean and quick. He was outfitted in a skintight black suit with a few scattered armoured plates. The black was only broken by a blue chevron that stretched across his chest, shoulder to shoulder and running down his sleeves. No cape hung behind him and no cowl adorned his face. He only wore a stylized domino mask that was slightly obscured by his shaggy black hair. Where his eyes should have been, there was only pure white. Looking at the vigilante's slightly tanned face, he realized the guy looked like he'd be better suited to be on the cover of some teen glamour magazine. He couldn't believe this pretty boy decimated nine guys. 

Fear returned to him as the man approached him. He tried to crawl away backwards, but he didn't get far. He squealed as the mystery man roughly grabbed him by the collar and dragged him up. With strength that belied his lean frame, the mystery man threw business suit against a steel support beam and held him up off his feet.

In a high-pitched whine, he asked the black clad vigilante, “What are you?”

The mystery man tilted his head slightly and a smirk crossed his face, “I'm Nightwing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there it is: the first chapter. What did you think? As of this posting (07-27-2017) I have 8 chapters in nearly complete condition, they just need some clean up and tightening. I have no idea how many chapters this will end up being, but I'm trying to force myself not to be the type of fanfiction writer who never finishes their stories.
> 
> Feedback is very encouraged. I've never posted anything before, but I'm trying to get more serious about writing. I'm using fanfiction as a bit of practice as I work on my first novel, so I would love to get some constructive criticism.


	2. Chapter 2

Dick Grayson stared out the window as the Greyhound bus rolled down the highway. The sky was dark blue as the cars passed the bus and the streetlights zoomed by. Checking his phone, he saw that it was 4 AM. He had hopped on the red eye bus and should be at his destination by morning.

The bus was near empty and Dick's duffel bag lay on the seat beside him. In that bag was pretty much everything he owned. In fact, that bag and it's few contents were the only constants in his life for the last few years. Since he was nineteen, he'd been living like a nomad; travelling from city to city and doing what he could do to help, but never feeling at home. Guess it's in my blood, he mused.

The handsome twenty two year old ran his hand through his dishevelled, slightly too long black hair and rubbed his tired blue eyes. He let out a long yawn as the monotony of watching the highway weighed down his eyelids. A sign came into view; 'Welcome to Gotham City'. _Two years since I've been here_ , he thought. Dick knew that this bus would be passing through the town, but he couldn't help feeling a dull apprehension. _Four years since it was my home_.

The bus drove on and he couldn't keep his eyes open. The droning hum of the engines lulled Dick's tired body and mind. As he felt himself drifting off to sleep, Dick couldn't help the memories surge to the forefront of his mind.

****

Dick stared out the window at the bright lights and tall buildings of Gotham City. Even though they come through every year, Gotham still amazed him. Though he isn't the only one excited, after all, Gotham is the biggest show on their circuit. There is always a big turnout which means a big payout for everyone at Haly's Circus.

“Hey, dad,” Dick yelled, looking to the driver seat of the old RV where his father sat, “how big do ya thing the house is gonna be?”

“Not sure,” Johnathan Grayson responded while keeping his eyes on the highway, “Last year's opening night pulled in around a thousand.”

“Wow, a thousand!” Dick exclaimed, “If we do better this year, can I get the new game console?”

Dick Grayson has spent all his twelve years travelling around the country with his mom and dad as part of Haly's Circus. Johnathan and Mary Grayson were the flying Graysons, the best trapeze artists this side of the Atlantic and Dick was also on his way to being a showstopper just like them. It was the only life Dick had ever known and he loved it. The cheering crowd, the bright lights, the exhilaration of the act and the pride of his parents; he revelled in it all.

“I would rather you spend more time on your studies than playing video games,” Mary chimed in.

“Yeah, I know, mom,” Dick sighed, “It's just that I'm in the show, too. Shouldn't I get some money, too?”

“Oh, would you rather not be in the act?” Mary asked with a raised eyebrow and a sly grin.

“Wha—No!” Dick yelled, “I love being in the act with you guys.”

“Don't tease the boy, Mary,” Johnathan said, chuckling.

“Dick, if we do really well this year and don't have to spend anything on repairs for this old girl,” He said, patting the dashboard, “we'll think about it.”

“And only if you get an A in your next math test,” Mary added.

Outside of the circus was more difficult for Dick. Between shows, his mom would give him lessons from old textbooks she bought in used bookstores. He didn't like his lessons and was glad he didn't go to a normal school where he'd be stuck all day with boring math and science. But, his mom insisted and Dick persevered.

“But, remember, if you spend all your time in the RV playing video games, you won't be able to make any real friends.” his mom said.

It didn't really matter either way. There weren't any other kids in their circus so Dick's friends were all just the adult performers. When in town for shows, Dick might be able to make some friends with townie kids for a week. But, the Graysons were always moving and Dick never got very close to any of those kids. What made it even more complicated was that Dick started to find himself interested in girls. He hoped to see that cute redhead he spotted in the crowd the last time they were in Gotham.

As they made their way into the city, Dick's dad asked, “Hey, wanna get something to eat before we get to the fairgrounds?”

“Yeah, Big Belly Burger!” Dick yelled.

“Whatever's fine with me,” Mary replied.

A half an hour later, Johnathan luckily found a parking spot large enough for the RV in west side Gotham. They locked up and made their way the three blocks to the fast food restaurant as the sun began to set. The mid autumn chill made Dick's cheeks red as they passed the throngs of pedestrians moving through the crowded city.

Though Gotham was grimy and a little intimidating, Dick loved the city. It was so full of life. The monorail zoomed overhead as thousands of people crammed onto the sidewalk. Car horns blared as music leaked out of weird restaurants and clubs they passed. Sure, it wasn't Metropolis, but Gotham was a cool town.

Just as they turned the corner that led to their destination, they heard a crash in the street. Dick turned to see a car with it's hood crushed in. Something must have fallen out of the sky to make that. Something big. As Dick watched, a giant brown humanoid emerged from the wreak. Monster would be the only way to describe it as it had the general form of a man, but it had huge leathery wings sprouting from the underside of it's disproportionately long arms, backwards curved lower legs and was covered in short brown fur. It's face reminded Dick of those of bats he had seen on a nature show.

The creature let out an ear piercing screech, sending the crowd screaming and running. They fled in any random direction, just as long as it was away from the monster. The wave of frightened humanity hit Dick and separated him from his parents. As Dick searched for his mom and dad while trying to go against the flow of people, he was hit by a running man. Dick stumbled between two parked cars and fell into the street.

When he tried to put weight on his arm to rise, he winced at a sharp pain on his elbow. He looked down to see his jacket was torn with a cut beneath. Dick heard another roar and looked up to see the bat monster charging down the street straight towards him. He noticed that the monster's left arm seemed to be broken as it hung limp at it's side, but the other had a hand with long fingers tipped with wicked claws. It seemed eager to use those claws.

Dick scrambled back, but tripped when he tried to stand. When the monster was less than a dozen feet from him, Dick clamped his eyes shut. As he expected to feel the sharp pain of those vicious claws, Dick prayed to anyone that would listen, _Oh please, save me. Let me see my mom and dad again_.

When the pain didn't come, Dick opened his eyes to see the creature grappling with someone. Dick's unexpected saviour was dressed in a grey body suit with a black cape and a mask with upward pointed ears. Even though he was wresting with a monster, the man was still huge; taller than Dick's six foot dad and bulky with muscle.

This must be the mysterious Batman Dick had been hearing rumours about the last few years. No one knew if he really existed, but about five years ago, crazy stories started popping up about a man dressed as a giant bat beating up criminals in Gotham. Well, Dick now knew for sure that the Batman really existed.

The Batman punched the creature in it's injured shoulder, sending it reeling backwards. As Batman charged forwards to followup his attack, the creature swung his clawed hand in a horizontal arc. He dodged under the claws and tackled the monster into the side of a delivery truck. They smashed into the truck with a crash that made Dick jump. The truck rocked violently and the impact put a monster sized dent in its side panel.

Regaining its senses, the creature grabbed the Batman with it's good arm and tossed him sideways. Batman was sent rolling and the creature charged at him, bringing his good arm down on his back like a sledgehammer. It knocked the wind out of the Batman and the creature lifted its claws to deliver the killing blow.

“NO!” Dick shouted at the top of his lungs.

He didn't know how he overcame his fear, but his protest distracted the monster. His eyes went wide and a cold shiver ran through his body as the monster turned to look at the twelve year old with beady, black eyes. Oh man, why did I have to yell at it? Dick thought.

The Batman had enough time to recover and scrambled away from his opponent. He swept the monster's legs from under it. It fell forwards with a crash and the Batman jumped on it's back. He wrapped one arm around its neck and sent a few well placed punches into the side of its writhing head. When the created seemed dazed from his attacks, the Batman quickly pulled out some kind of syringe from his belt and stuck it in the monster's neck. It thrashed and convulsed for several seconds as the Batman held it down. It's wild movements finally stopped and the Batman released it and stepped back.

Though Dick couldn't believe it, the monster was undergoing some kind of change. All the animal-like hair fell from it's skin and it's wings shrunk to nothing. Inhuman shrieks turned to the very normal groans of pain from a normal man's voice as his body transformed into a human form. After the grotesque metamorphosis was over, all that was left was a middle aged man shivering on the street.

Dick was panting and sweating profusely despite the cool autumn night. The Batman looked over to him and Dick was pinned to the spot by the intense glare from those white slits he had for eyes. He was taken aback when the Batman slowly nodded his head in approval at the boy. Without thinking, Dick returned the nod. The sound of sirens caught his attention and he turned to see the flashing red and blue lights coming from down the street. As he turned to look back at him, the Batman had vanished.

****

Mary was near hysterics as the EMT bandaged Dick's arm, “Are you sure he's going to be okay?”

“I'm sure ma'am,” the EMT responded. “It's just a scratch.”

“Will I be able to perform tomorrow?” Dick asked enthusiastically.

“Perform?” The EMT furrowed his brow.

“Oh, we're with Haly's Circus,” Johnathan replied as he held his near-frantic wife.

“I'm a trapeze artist!” Dick announced proudly. He tried to puff out his chest, but let out a wince as the EMT was still working on his arm.

“Is that so? Then I might have to come by tomorrow to see the boy wonder.”

“So, he'll be okay to go?” Johnathan asked as he examined Dick's elbows from where he stood.

“Should be fine. Just check it out tomorrow morning with some light stretches and if it isn't hurting, he should be good to go.”

Mary looked at the man with distrust, but then took a moment and sighed, “Hmm, if you say so.”

“Now that that's out of the way, what was that thing? Here I though muggers and gangsters were all we had to worry about in Gotham,” Johnathan joked. He was always trying to use humour to mask his worry.

“I hear you, man,” The EMT said as he finished with Dick's elbow, “I've been hearing about some strange stuff happening lately in Gotham. First the Batman then crazy stuff like this. But, hey, in a world with guys in capes that fly around fighting aliens, anything is possible.”

After they thanked the EMT and gave him a voucher for two free tickets, they passed through this different kind of circus. News trucks with reporters and cameramen were wedged into any space the police allowed to them. Dick wanted to be on TV, but his mom flatly refused when a reporter asked for her permission. The Graysons made their way back to the RV with the police officers, EMTs, and reporters disappearing behind them.

Mary protectively held on to her son, “Are you sure you're okay, Little Robin?”

“I'm fine. And mom, don't call me that! I'm not a little kid anymore!” Dick rebuked, rolling his eyes. When he was four or five, he always wanted her to read him the same Robin Hood story every night before bed so she started calling him 'Little Robin'. Now that he was a mature twelve, he hated being called that.

They stepped into the RV and Johnathan took the driver's seat. Dick joined him up front and buckled up in the passenger seat. Johnathan flipped the ignition and the engine came to life. He looked over at his son and smiled.

“That was a brave thing you did tonight.” He said, “Saving the Batman like you did.”

“I didn't save him, dad.” Dick said, a flush spreading across his face, “I just screamed at that thing.”

The image of that monster looking at him with those black eyes flashed in front of his eyes. It was the scariest thing Dick had ever experienced. Even scarier than when he missed his first jump. At least then he knew that there was a big net to catch him.

“Still, that took courage. Courage that most people probably wouldn't have had.” He placed his hand on Dick's shoulder, “I'm proud of you, son.”

His cheeks flushed and he replied, “Thanks, dad.”

Johnathan returned his hand to the wheel and said, “Let's get to the fairgrounds. Tomorrow is going to be a big day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally, I wasn't sure about this flashback. I first planned to have Dick's first flashback to be the fateful night he lost his parents, but instead I wanted to established the family love the Graysons had and show that Dick was still a brave kid before he became Robin. 
> 
> I also wanted to introduce Batman in a spectacular and heroic way as he won't be getting much time in this story.
> 
> Once again, if you have any feedback, good or bad, please comment. I'd like some input to tell when what I do right and wrong.


	3. Chapter 3

Dick awoke with a start as the bus jolted to a stop. He had to blink his eyes a few times as the light temporarily blinded him. Through those dreary eyes, he saw the newborn dawn light peeking over the buildings and smog.

The driver yelled out “Bludhaven.”

Dick grabbed his bag and stumbled out of the bus into the harsh light of morning. The streets of the old whaling city were starting to get crowded with pedestrians making their way to work. However, Bludhaven, or 'the 'haven' as some called it, lacked the energy of Metropolis. It didn't even have that feeling of beaten-down, but still present optimism of Gotham. The people of Bludhaven knew that there wasn't anywhere to go in that town. 

Ever since the whaling trade ended, the city has been in shambles. Attempts have been made from the city government and certain generous business owners to reinvigorate the economy, but they never worked. As Dick walked the streets of Bludhaven, he knew it had one of the highest unemployment rate of any city in the country and with poverty, came crime.

Dick manoeuvred his way through the foot traffic and through the downtown centre. Most of the buildings Dick passed were over a hundred years old and many were boarded up or empty with 'For Lease' signs covered in dust adorning the windows. A few tall office buildings and high rise apartment buildings dotted the city, but nothing like Gotham with it's soaring skyscrapers. There were, however, no shortage of pawn shops and payday loan places. They all had one thing in common; they all had heavy bars in front of glass storefront windows and sturdy steel doors. 

He had an appointment at nine o'clock, so that left him with some time to kill. As the heat was summer heat was building up, Dick felt his belly rumble and realize he hadn't eaten in well over twelve hours. Wandering around downtown, he found a corner diner that looked straight out of a sleazy seventies movie. Entering the diner, Dick realized that the place probably hadn't been renovated since the seventies: cracked wood panelling covered the walls, it was bleached where the sunlight shone on it; a yellowed, dust encrusted ceiling fan hung unmoving, it must have died a long time ago and was never repaired; and the furnishing was all just worn down, seeming to be on the verge of crumbling into a thousand pieces. 

Dick took a seat at the counter on a bar stool that was hemorrhaging it's padding and placed his bag on the stool next to him. An middle aged woman wiped her hands on a ragged and stained pink waitress uniform and approached him from behind the counter. She had deep, dark bags under her eyes and an annoyed expression when she spotted Dick entering the restaurant.

“What'll ya have?” She ask with absolutely no enthusiasm.

“Coffee, please,” Dick replied, trying to sound polite, “and, ah...what's good here?”

The woman looked at him with narrow eyes. Dick knew what she was thinking: _What good? If you haven't noticed, pretty boy, this place is a shit hole._

“Umm...scrambled eggs and bacon?” Dick asked, scratching the back of his neck and averting his eyes.

“Good choice,” She said with the most sarcastic smile Dick had ever seen.

After taking a sip of what tasted like sewer water with a hint of burnt coffee flavour, Dick looked over at the TV sitting on the corner of the counter. It was an ancient tube TV; rabbit ear antenna, wood grain and all. On the staticy and blurry screen, the morning news was playing with two anchors desperately trying to act cheerful between the reports of terrible crimes that had recently occurred. Muder, arson, gang activity; Bludhaven had it all.

“Last night, there was a fatal shootout in Melville Park with eight confirmed dead and no known survivors.” The female anchor said while footage shot from behind a police tape showed several gurneys carrying body bags were wheeled out of a underpass. “The Bludhaven Police Department chose not to comment on the incident, but sources tell us that this is just another in a long line of organized crime related violence since the disappearance of crime boss, Angel Marin four weeks ago.”

Bludhaven was always bad with crime always a smouldering fire, but in the last few weeks, the fire had turned into an inferno. Angel Marin was one of the most powerful crime bosses in Bludhaven and when he had gone missing, a city-wide gang war had engulfed the city as the other organizations tried to fill the vacuum. Thugs and criminals fought in the streets and normal innocent citizens were getting caught in the crossfire.

Then there was the rumours of a new player in town. Some real vicious guy that scared everyone, even Bludhaven's old guard. No one knew who this guy was, but he was more likely than not connected to the disappearance of Marin and the twenty one bodies that washed up downstream in Gotham harbour. The strangest thing about it was all the bodies were found with their heads twisted backwards.

And the cherry on top of this horror sundae was that the police didn't seem to care. Based on what Dick could piece together, Bludhaven PD was a lot like the Gotham police before Jim Gordon, but worse. Corrupt and apathetic, they didn't care what happened to normal citizens as long as they got their cut. Sure, once in a while, they would bring in small time hoods to keep up appearances, but they never went after the big fish.

Dick knew he had his work cut out for him as the waitress plopped a plate of runny eggs and bacon charred to black. He gave her an awkward smile as she wandered back to the back.  _Yeah_ , he thought as he picked up a fork of slimy eggs,  _this isn't going to be easy._

Dick lost his appetite after a few experimental prods at eggs that jiggled in an unsettling manner and bacon that shattered when he tried to cut it. Hopefully, there was a Big Belly Burger in town. He let out a sigh and picked up his bag. He fished some bills out of his wallet and placed them under the plate.

“Money's under the plate,” He yelled to the back as he walked out. Hopefully that $500 tip he left would make the lady's day...or month, for that matter.

As he walked into the sunlit street, he felt the heat of the sun and the clammy humidity begin to press down on the city. Dick had heard the summers in Bludhaven were near unbearable with the moist air from the sea mixing with the smog of the few factories left, but hearing about something and feeling it on your skin are two different things. Dick wiped his brow as sweat began to seep through his pores.

He looked at the time on his phone, _Still got time to kill, might as well scope out at least the downtown area_. High unemployment meant there wasn't enough taxes to cover basics like road repair as cracks and potholes were clear as day on the asphalt. Broken street signs and shattered lights seemed more common than undamaged and working ones.

The homeless were everywhere, just tucked away far enough not to get in the way of the criminals. But, every alley contained the evidence of at least one person living there. Under bridges and underpasses were whole shanty towns of homeless with their cardboard box and tarp shelters next to shopping carts filled with scrap. 

Dick passed a man sitting on the sidewalk with a can beside him. His head was down and he just grumbled at every pair of feet passed his view. Though he was asking for money, he didn't seem like he would expect anyone to actually give him anything. Dick dropped a couple of fifties in his can and the man stared at the bills for a few moments, not believing what he was seeing.

He looked up at Dick, almost at the verge of tears and said, “Thank you mister. No one ever gives me anything.”

Dick dropped his bag on the ground and squatted next to the man, “Hey, no problem. But, isn't there like a shelter or soup kitchen around here?”

The man, looking around suspiciously, tucked the bills in his jacket, “Na man, not here; not in the 'haven. There used to be one over there.”

The man pointed at an old building on the street corner, but its windows and door were now boarded up and covered in graffiti. He continued, “A real nice lady ran it, but damn gangs wouldn't leave her alone. Said that she needed to pay protection money.”

“Didn't the cops do anything?”

“'Haven cops? Hell na, man. They wanted more money than the gangs was asking for.”

“So what happened?” Dick knew this story didn't have a happy ending, but he needed to know these kind of stories. Its what connected vigilantes like Nightwing to the normal people he was trying to protect. 

“She couldn't pay and gangs made an example outta her. One day they came, trashed the place and beat the hell outta a bunch of us. I lost a couple friends that day. And damn cops didn't do jack.”

“Man, I'm sorry,” Dick shook his head as he imagined the scene. Homeless people just trying to get something to eat and a bunch of thugs bust in, smashing windows and attacking anyone they saw.

“Poor lady who ran the place lost everything. Had ta leave town and move in with her sister in Central City. Tried ta do a good thing for people and ended up losing everything; that what it's like in this shit hole of a city.”

The man glanced over at Dick. He looked him up and down and asked, “You ain't from here, are ya?”

“Nope, how'd you know?” Dick asked, thinking his luggage gave him away.

“You ain't got that look in your eye. Like this city ain't broken you down, yet.” He stood up, patted some of the dirt off his rump, and as he was about to leave said, “You seem like a nice kid, so take my advice. Get outta this town as soon as you can. You ain't gonna find anything good in Bludhaven.”

****

Dick arrived at the building five minutes before nine. He was surprised by the condition of it. Sure, the old, six storey, brick apartment building wasn't Wayne manor, but at least it didn't look like it should be condemned like many buildings Dick saw in town. When he examined it further, he was surprised to see that none of the windows were broken or had plywood boards instead of panes of glass, even the barred windows of the basement and first floor.

Dick entered the old and musty, but relatively clean foyer. He pressed the intercom for apartment 301. After a moment, a feminine Irish accented voice answered, “Oi, who is it?”

“Hi, it's Dick Grayson, I talked to you last night about the apartment.”

“Oh yeah, sure. I'll be down in a minute.”

The apartment would be a little more expensive than most in the city, but based on the pictures he saw online, it was light years ahead of the others. And it didn't hurt that it was a top floor apartment with a balcony that gave him easy entry and exit for his nightly escapades.

Dick heard the elevator ding in the lobby and a cute Asian young woman came walking out and towards him. Was this one of his potential new neighbours? Things might be looking up. She opened the door to the foyer and asked in that same Irish brogue, “Heya, Dick Grayson?”

Dick tilted his head and fumbled for word, “Ye—yeah, that's me.”

She thrust out her hand and said with a smile, “Bridget Clancy, nice ta meet ya. You can just call me Clancy, if ya like. No doubt you were expectin' somthin' different?”

“Wha—I mean no?” Dick said, shaking her hand.

“Don't sweat it, boyo. I get that look every time.” She said, breaking the handshake and motioning Dick into the lobby, “Now come on. I'll show ya the unit.”

The ride up the ancient elevator was silent as she looked him up and down with the same grin on her face. Dick got that kind of examination from plenty of women (and men, too if he was being honest), so it didn't bother him. He looked over the old elevator and gave her an uneasy smile when his eyes met hers.

“Been in Bluhaven long?” Dick asked, no long able to stand the silence.

“Oh, a few years now. Came here when me dear old da, God rest him, bought this place. Now, I'm stuck with it.”

“Sorry about your dad.”

“Ah, no bother. He was a good fella and I loved him a bunch. Died with no regrets, ya know. Ain't got no doubts he's in a better place.” she said, looking up to the heavens.

It brought a small smile to Dick's face hearing her speaking so well of her father. Dick on the other hand...Well, he wasn't Dick's father, but...It's been two years since he saw him and four years since he had a conversation with him that didn't involve yelling and fists, usually on Dick's part. Old wounds were still aching.

The elevator dinged, the door slid open and Clancy said, “'ere we are, sixth floor.”

Down the hall at the corner, Clancy opened the door to the apartment. They walked in and Dick took a look around. The one bedroom unit was more than spacious enough for Dick. There was a big living room, nice for practising with its high ceilings. It had a full kitchen with plenty of cupboards and counter space and even came with an ancient scarred kitchen table and a couple of mismatched chairs. The washroom and bedroom were a little small, but nothing Dick couldn't make do with. It was in pretty good condition, all things considered. The walls were clean and the old wood floors, though scratched, weren't cracked. The fridge and stove were ancient, but they were clean and worked when Dick tested them.

Dick tapped the double bed and couch that came with the place. He expected a puff of dust to come off of them, but they were surprisingly clean. Dick walked back to the entrance where Clancy was waiting and smiled at her.

“Alright, I'll take it.” He said with his hands on his waist in satisfaction as he looked over the place again.

“You sure?” She asked, “Since ya said ya din't want a lease, I'll have ta have three months down.”

“Oh yeah, I understand.” Dick plopped his bag on the counter and pulled out a cashier's cheque. He handed it to her, “Here ya go.”

Clancy carefully took the cheque and examined it with furrowed brows, “You ain't gonna be any trouble are ya? No offence, but there's only one type of person in Bludhaven that just has this much money at call.”

Dick lifted one eyebrow, “What kind is that?”

“Ya know...drug peddlers, pusher and the like.” Clancy started to sound nervous as she stared at her feet, “This building's all I have. I don't need anyone bringing trouble 'ere.”

Dick felt a small pang of guilt for making her nervous, “Don't worry, Clancy. I don't sell or do drugs. I just have some money left for me by my parents. And I don't live a very expensive lifestyle so I saved up.”

“Uh hum,” she looked at him with a raised eyebrow and pursed lips, “And what's a nice boy like you doing in a town like this?”

“Well...” Dick took a moment to think about his phrasing, “I though I might be able to do some good.”

“Oh haha,” she burst out, “Got a saint here, do we?”

She patted him on the shoulder and said as she left, “You do your good, boyo. Just don't let the saint turn into a martyr.”


	4. Chapter 4

Dick spent the remainder of the day exploring the city. Much of it was the same as he saw downtown with old buildings either standing run down and vacant or run down and occupied. The only exception was a part of town called Avalon Heights. It seemed like all the wealthy people huddled together there and were provided protection by the police as it was obviously the most patrolled part of Bludhaven. The sun was soon be setting so Dick made his way back home after picking up a few groceries and household necessities.

Even though Dick explored the city by day, he decided that he needed to get the know the city by dark and on the rooftops. He pulled his gear out of his duffel bag and laid it out on his bed. He looked over his equipment and nodded to himself in satisfaction; he might not have a billion dollar corporation at his back, but he does well for himself. He had: two eighteen inch eskrima sticks, composed of high strength carbon fibre; a handful of wingdings, Dick's own version of the famous batarang; a few smoke bombs, to lose pursuers; and a grapple gun, equipped with de-cel line that would allow him to jump and swing around without his arms being ripped out of his shoulders.

Satisfied with his gear, Dick suited up. His suit was a black, full body covering with next gen flexible Kevlar weave. Carbon fibre covered ceramic armour plates protected areas that were particularly vulnerable. It was a snug fit, but the suit was flexible enough to allow him full range of movement, which Dick appreciated with his acrobatic fighting style. 

When he was in his suit, he pulled on gloves and boots made of the same Kevlar. He clamped large Kevlar-wrapped bracers that protected his forearms. The Kevlar protected against blades while it was also sturdy enough to withstand blunt weapons. Twisting his forearms to check if they were secure, he inspected the sharp fins on the underside. They were the same that Batman used on his suit. Sure, Dick was copying him, but better alive than proud and dead.

He filled hidden pouches with his equipment and holstered his eskrima sticks on his back. Finally, Dick picked up his mask. It was a small thing, only covering his brows and upper cheeks, but no one had ever identified him as Dick Grayson after seeing him in the mask. White lenses covered his eyes and provided him with an array of fancy filters like infrared nightvison. He placed it over his eyes and looked in the mirror. Same old Nightwing; all back except for the stylized electric blue chevron that stretched across his chest and down his arms. Dick nodded to himself and left from his balcony.

****

Only an hour in and Nightwing stopped three muggings and two potential assaults. It was good to prevent any crime, but stopping muggers and other small-time low lives wasn't going to do much to help Bludhaven. He came to this city to go after the crime bosses. He needed to get more information about the situation with organized crime in the city. Since the cops weren't going to be much help, he needed to find some thug and squeeze him for info.

Nightwing figured that he'd start at the bottom and work his way up. In a city like Bludhaven, there wouldn't be many independent dealers. They would have been absorbed into a larger organization or eliminated for stepping on toes. 

On a deserted street in a bad neighbourhood, as far as you can distinguish a good neighbourhood from a bad one in Bludhaven, Nightwing perched atop a four story brownstone apartment building. Under the cover of night, he watched and waited for someone suspicious. It didn't take long for a man dressed in a black hoodie to emerge from down the street and duck into an alley.

Nightwing vaulted from rooftop to rooftop to the building next to the alley. He peered over the roof's edge to find hoodie trading a baggie of white powder for a small wad of cash. The transaction didn't take long and as hoodie's customer hurried out of the alley, Nightwing swiftly and quietly scaled down the side of the building.

The dealer whistled as he strutted out of the alley. Nightwing, standing behind him whistled himself. The dealer spun around and pulled out a revolver out of his waistband. Nightwing wasn't scared or surprised; of course this guy was carrying, but he didn't look like someone who would easily pull the trigger.

The dealer looked over the young vigilante and furrowed his brows, “Who da hell you suppose ta be?”

He rolled his eyes, “I am really tired of introducing myself. The name's Nightwing, google it.”

“Don't matter, soon you gonna be dead wing.” The dealer chuckled, trying to cover the quaver in his voice.

Nightwing shrugged and, with what appeared to be very little effort, underhanded a wingding at the criminal. It struck the revolver, knocking it out of the dealer's hand and it skittered away. The dealer's eyes followed his gun as it slid under a dumpster. When he turned to look back at Nightwing, he saw the vigilante charging at him. He didn't even have time to react before his booted heel smashed against his jaw. He collapsed like ragdoll.

****

The dealer awoke feeling like he had been hit by a mac truck. His arms were stretched over his head and when he looked up at them he saw the alley, dozens of feet below him. When he realized he was hanging upside down, he let out a scream and struggled like a fish that has just been thrown on a boat's deck.

“Umm, you really don't want to do that.” Nightwing said with a sardonic grin, “Cable might snap. Down you go and then...SPLAT!”

The dealer looked at his feet to see his ankles were tied together with cable running to the bottom of an overhanging billboard that sat atop a rooftop. He looked over at the vigilante to find him standing on the rooftop, twirling around some kind of stick.

“Good,” He said, holstering the stick on his back, “Now that I got your attention, let's have a chat.”

“Wh-what do ya want?” the dealer whined, “You want my stash, it's yours. You want me outta this town, I'm gone. Just please don't kill me.”

“I don't want anything of yours,” he said as he stepped to the ledge and stared at the dealer in the eyes with his white pupil-less lenses, “I want you to tell me about the new boss in town.”

“I-I don't know anything, man.”

“Wrong answer, buddy,” He grabbed the dealer's hair with one hand and pointed to the origin point of the cable where it was tied off, “See that? One little tug of that rope and your brains will be rat food until some poor bastard finds your carcass.”

The dealer wheezed, “I don't know anything 'pecific, but they say he came down from Gotham.”

“Gotham?... Two-Face? Penguin? Who is it?” Nightwing yelled, trying to do his best intimidating Batman voice.

“I don't know, man.” He squealed, tears running from his eyes and flowing down his forehead to his scalp.

“Well then, you're no use.” Nightwing said as he walked to the knot and reached for it.

“Wait! Wait! I heard somethin'.” The dealer screamed. 

Nightwing smiled, he had no intention of dropping the guy, but a little fear goes a long way. “Well, well, I guess you just needed a little jog to your memory. What did you hear?”

The criminal continued, “I heard that he's the one who cranked those guy's heads around.”

“What?” Nightwing asked in confusion. Sure, he knew plenty of brutes that could snap someone's neck like that, but none of them were smart enough to run a criminal organization. Well, Bane was, but Nightwing knew for a fact that he was a few thousand miles south.

“Yeah, man. I heard he's a big mofo. Like crazy big.”

“Hmm,” Nighwing sighed with furrow brows.

“That's alls I know. Please just lemme go.”

Nightwing walked up to the man. A smile started on his face, thinking the vigilante would free him. Nightwing nonchalantly punched him, sending him back into unconsciousness. He pulled him down and searched through is pockets. He didn't find anything but more narcotics and money. He left him in the alley with his drugs and called in a tip to the cops; hopefully they would actually arrest him. He took the money and left it in a charity drop box; it would do more good there than being confiscated by the corrupt Bludhaven PD.

****

There was only a couple more hours of night and he decided to call it. A few hours of sleep was what he really needed. Tomorrow he would have to find some other avenues of information collection than just beating up thugs.

As Nightwing made his way back to his apartment, leaping rooftop to rooftop, he went over what little he learned. The new guy in Bludhaven was from Gotham and was strong enough to twist a fully grown man's head backwards. Who the hell could it be?

“I wonder who it could be,” A digitally camouflaged voice said.

The surprise of hearing the voice almost sent Nightwing stumbling over the edge of a roof and down to an alley a few dozen feet below. He quickly regained his bearing and crouched, ready to defend. He searched his surroundings with careful scrutiny, but the roof and all surrounding roofs were empty.

“Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to startle you.” The same electronic voice said. 

Nightwing realized it was coming from the earpiece he used to listen in on the police band. It also used to be for communication back to the cave when he was still in Gotham and when he still worked with others. It was supposed to be hack-proof; how did this person get access to his frequency?

“Who is this? How did you get onto this frequency?”Nightwing asked, holding a finger to his ear.

“What fun is there in that, boy wonder?” Nightwing's blood ran cold as he was called 'boy wonder.' That was the nickname the media had for Robin. No one other than Bruce and the rest of the team knew he used to be Robin.

“I don't know who this is, but—“

“Don't worry, I'm a friend,” The voice said. 

Nightwing tried to figure out if it was male or female, but whatever voice modulator they were using masked it too well. He said, “Yeah, first rule in the superhero book is 'don't trust anyone you just met.'”

“Well, we don't have a problem then.” It sounded like they were teasing him.

“What do you—“

“No time for that now, Nightwing,” The voice said, getting back to business, “I'll look into these murders and the organized crime situation in Bludhaven and get back to you.”

“Wait!” Nightwing shouted, “What do I call you?”

There was a long pause and he worried whoever he was talking to had logged off. He heard an electric sigh.

The voice said, “Call me Oracle.”


	5. Chapter 5

 

Haly's Circus was abuzz with activity. It was their first night and they were pulling in great numbers. While the rides, games and concessions were going strong out in the fairgrounds, in the big tent, every performer was getting ready for the big show knowing that they had to be perfect. A good show on opening night meant good attendance all week which meant a good payout for everyone.

 Dick was wandering around the fair, chatting with his friends manning booths and rides, and checking out the cute girls of Gotham. Looking at his watch, he saw that it was getting close to showtime and he needed to get ready. He was making his way back to his RV when he heard yelling coming out of Mr. Haly's trailer. He knew he shouldn't be snooping, but Mr. Haly was usually a nice man who never yelled. Dick looked around to make sure no one was watching, crept over to the door and placed his ear on it.

 “My family's run this circus for a hundred years and we never have and never will be bullied by thugs like you!” Mr Haly yelled.

 “C.C. Haly, huh. What's C.C. stand for?” Asked a man with a smooth deep voice.

 “It stands for none of your damn business!” He answered.

 “Alright, C.C.” The man said undeterred, “You may never have needed protection in da past. But, Gotham's been gettin' more and more dangerous nowadays. There's even rumours there's a freak dressed like a bat beating da hell outta people.”

 Dick knew that it wasn't just a rumour. He still clearly remember the image of the Batman fighting the monster from the previous night.

 “That's none of our business,” Mr Haly responded.

 “Oh sure, sure.” The smooth talker said, “It's just that you got such a nice little show here. Buncha' nice people workin' for ya. You even got a kid jumpin' the ropes in your show. A real family environment here.”

 “Are you threatening my people?!” Haly yelled.

 “Me threaten? Naws. Alls I'm sayin' is it'd be a shame if somethin' happened to your people. A damn awful shame.” The man said with obvious menace.

 “GET THE HELL OUT OF MY OFFICE!” Mr Haly yelled. “If you lay one finger on any of my people, I'll--I'll--”

 “You'll what, C.C.? Call da police?” He chuckled. “This is Gotham, cops don't care about small time people like you. I'll give ya one more chance. The money I asked for and an apology for your disrespect.”

 “I'm not giving you anything, Zucco!” 

 “Dats a shame, C.C. I was hopin' we could do business. But, you're lettin' pride and stupidity get in da way of business. See ya, C.C. Have a good show, tonight.”

 Dick heard heavy footsteps coming towards the door and he scrambled away. From behind the trailer, Dick watched the man leave. He was a tall, imposing man who stood well over six feet. He was heavily built, like he could do some real damage when he wanted. He was wearing an expensive looking pinstripe suit. As Dick held his breath to keep quiet, the man put a cigar in his mouth and lit it with a gold lighter. A look of menacing amusement crossed his rock-like face as he walked off towards the fairgrounds exit.

 Dick was worried about what he just heard and ran back to the RV. That big guy sounded dangerous and, although he didn't make any clear threats, Dick was afraid something might happen during the show. He had to tell his parents.

 

****

 

 Dick burst through the door to their RV, panting. He leaned over with his hands on his knees. He tried to speak, but he had to wait to catch his breath. His mom was sitting in the ground, stretching her legs and his dad was loosening up his shoulders.

 Mary rushed over and placed her hands on his shoulders, “Dick, what's wrong.”

 “Mom, dad...” Dick took a moment to catch his breath, “I was walking back from the fairgrounds and I heard something coming from Mr. Haly's trailer. So, I listened at the door--”

 “Dick!” Johnathan stomped over and glared down at his son, “How many times have we told you to stop snooping? Mr Haly does important business. Business that you shouldn't be listening in on.”

 “But, dad,” Dick pleaded, “He was arguing with someone.”

 “All the more reason not to be eavesdropping.” His dad pointed his finger forcefully at Dick.

 “But--”

 “No buts, young man” His dad interrupted. “After the show tonight, you go straight back to the RV. In fact, since this isn't the first time you disobeyed, for the rest of the week, if you're not performing, you'll spend on your lessons.”

 Dick looked at his dad and saw no relenting in his expression, “Fine.”

 “Okay, good....Now get ready, Dick. The show starts in fifteen minutes.” He returned to his stretching.

 His mom leaned down and whispered in his ear, “It's okay, honey. Your dad is just nervous about such a big show. Give him a little time to cool off.”

 “Okay, mom.” Dick nodded his head and sighed.

 

****

 

 Dick waited on the sidelines as the show began. The ringleader came out and gave his usual speech to prepare the crowd for the night. Dick couldn't stop thinking about what he heard in Mr Haly's office. _Was that guy really going to do something?_ Dick thought for a moment and then shook his head. _No way, he was just bluffing._

 Dick felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see his dad.

 “Gonna be a good show, tonight.” He said.

 “I hope so.” Dick mumbled.

 “You ready for the new act?”.

 Dick shrugged, “I think so.” 

 “You'll do just fine. You're a Grayson.” He patted his son's shoulder.

 “Yeah.” Dick sighed.

 “Dick...look,” Johnathan glanced over at his wife who was giving him a stern glare, “I'm sorry about yelling at you earlier. You're a good kid and I know you think you were helping out, but you need to let the adults handle things. You understand?”

 “Yeah, dad. I understand,” Dick said, feeling a little better.

 “That's my boy. Don't worry, no matter what you heard, Mr. Haly will straighten everything out.” His dad said as he ruffled Dick's hair. “And fine, you won't have to spend the rest of the week in the RV. Just...if your mom asks, don't tell her I gave in so easily.”

 Dick mimed zipping his lips shut and father and son smiled.

They stood there patiently and watched the show. Clowns, Elephants, monkeys and acrobats; Dick knew this show like the back of his hand. He had, after all, been watching these performances since before he could remember. The trapeze act was the marquee event and always went on last. Send the people home satisfied after seeing the most exciting event.

 “And now I present to you, our lucky audience, the most amazing, the most death defying, the most electrifying acrobats you will ever see.” The ringleader took a dramatic pause, “THE FLYING GRAYSONS!”

 “That's our cue,” His dad said, “Remember, your mom and me do the first 3 acts and then you join us.”

 “I know, I know, dad.” Dick said, annoyed. “I've been performing the trapeze since I was nine.”

 Johnathan ran out and started climbing the ladder to the platform. Mary kissed her son on the cheek before making her way up the ladder on the opposite side. They smiled and posed atop the platform as the crowd clapped and cheered.

 The first few tricks went perfectly as usual. Dick was still awed at his parents skill even though he had seen the act hundreds of times before. After letting go of her trapeze, mom would perform nearly impossible aerial acrobatics and just when it seemed she would fall, dad would always be there to catch her.

 Other than the fact that their act was amazing, the Flying Graysons were famous for doing their act without a safety net. One wrong move or a slip and they would go splat. But, they were the best trapeze performers this side of the Atlantic. Dick was never afraid of his parents making a mistake. When it was time for Dick to join them, a net would be set up. Dick had begged to them to do his part without the net, but his parents insisted. A few more years of proving himself up there and Dick would join them as a full member and perform without a net, too.

 It was just coming up on their final trick before it was Dick's turn to join them. This was a new trick they were practicing for weeks. Dick watched as his mom swing out. She swung once and back and then again, swinging her legs to gain momentum. On the apex of the third swing she released. She did two somersaults followed up by three spins. The crowd gasped as it appeared Johnathan wouldn't be able to catch her. But, just as always, dad was there to catch her in his strong grip as the crowd cheered in relief.

Dick thought everything was going fine and was preparing to join them, but as they swung back, something went wrong. With a twang, the cable holding them bucked. Dick looked on helplessly as his mom lost the grip on one of her hands. They stopped swinging and hung fifty feet above the hard unforgiving floor. Dick heard himself screaming as his eyes were dead set on his mom dangling by one hand. She was able to reach up and grab her husband's hand and Dick let out a sigh of relief.

 Dick looked up and his blood went cold as he realized that the cable was frayed and was quickly becoming undone. Under the screaming of the crowd, twanging noises could be heard as the fibres of the cord snapped. What was left of the cable got thinner and thinner as it came apart. Dick's heart pounded faster than it ever had as he stood there powerless, covered in a cold sweat.

 His mind was racing, unable to accept the horror of what he was seeing. There were heroes in this world that would save the day. Superman or Wonder Woman or Batman would swoop in and save his parents from falling right in the nick of time. It would be just like the night before when Batman saved Dick from that monster. His parents would be okay and everything would be as it should; Dick's mom would hug him and his dad would ruffle his hair as he made a stupid joke.

 But no hero came swooping in.

 The next few seconds would be permanently burned into Dick's memory, haunting him for the rest of his life. Even though it happened so fast, Dick remembered it in slow motion. For months afterwards, he would relive every excruciating moment in his nightmares.

 With a snap, the cable broke. One side of the trapeze fell and Dick's dad no longer had anything to hold him. Dick heard nothing else, saw nothing else but his parents. His dad kicked in desperation at empty air and his mom shrieked in terror as they fell. Down and down they plummeted, Dick's eyes following them the entire way. In his memories, Dick thought he saw his mom look at him one last time before...

 With a heart-breaking thud, Dick lost everything.

 The other circus folk rushed to the Graysons. They were panicked and didn't know what to do so most of them milled around the scene, tears running down their faces. The ringleader knelt down and checked his mom's pulse.

 Thousands of voices were screaming in horror, but Dick couldn't hear them. Covered in sweat but shivering, he stumbled over to them in a daze. Even though he couldn't feel them, tears were streaming down his face. Dave, a clown who had been with the circus since before Dick was born, turned to see him approaching. He called out Dick's name but he didn't hear him. Dick didn't hear anything. Every noise was muffled and every other sight was blurred. Dick was focused only on one thing. His entire world was himself and the bloody, crumpled bodies that were his parents.

 Dick passed the circle of people and stood between his parents. He dropped to his knees and stared at his mom's face. He saw her hand, extended above her head and grabbed it; it was limp and lifeless like a doll's hand. He shook her hand, but his mother didn't stir.

 “Mom? MOM!” He yelled in a trembling voice as he pulled at her hand.

 With his eyes blurred with tears, he turned to his dad. His wide open eyes stared lifelessly at the ceiling of the tent. Dick grabbed him by the shoulder and tried in vain to jostle him back to life. But, his father did not respond.

 Jonathan and Mary Grayson lay there motionless. The blood from their bodies pooled under them, soaking Dick's knees.

 Realizing the truth of the situation and overcome with grief, Dick started screaming.

 

 ****

 

Dick awoke screaming. He blinked as his vision was overwhelmed by the sunlight streaming through the windows. He looked around in drowsy confusion at the unfamiliar room. It took his half-asleep mind a moment to realize he was in the bedroom of his new apartment in Bludhaven. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat, rubbing his face. He hadn't had that dream in a long time. For the first few months after losing them, he had that same nightmare every night. It really hadn't stopped until he started wearing the mask. _I guess punching bad guys really was the best therapy for a scared and angry twelve year old_ , he mused.

 He sat on his bed for several minutes. He thought of his parents and of his life since he lost them. Of course, he was sad when he thought about them and he mourned never being able to show them the kind of man he became. But, Dick didn't want to brood over their deaths; he saw what doing so did to a person and his parents wouldn't want that for him. He knew that his parents would be proud of him. He was helping people not because of what their deaths represented to him, but what their lives represented.

 Feeling a bit nostalgic, Dick pulled an old photo album out of his pack. His friends always commented on how old fashion it was to still have a photo album, but Dick liked it. He flipped through picture of his childhood and even before. Dick smiled, feeling the warmth and comfort of love as he looked through pictures of his parents. A long time ago, he was able to accept their deaths and end the guilt and anger he felt. He still loved them and missed them, but after he helped catch their murderer, he was able to heal.

 A picture of his mom and dad, no older than he was now, smiled up at him. He ran an finger over the photo and whispered, “I'm doing okay, mom and dad. I miss you, but I'll be alright.”

 Flipping the pages, he went to the next section of his life. There were few pictures with an old, skinny man in a constantly exasperated expression. Dick chuckled at the memories of pulling pranks on Alfred. For someone you would think would be a crusty old guy, he was a good sport about everything. There were also a few empty spaces where there used to be pictures, but Dick pulled them out a long time ago when he left Gotham. He didn't really want to think about that right now. Dwelling on old grudges didn't appeal to him.

 He turned the page to see a full page filled with pictures of a pretty red haired girl with freckled pale skin and green eyes. Some were just her and others had Dick posing with her, making goofy faces. Dick was reminded of emotions from a more innocent time in his life. _I haven't looked at these in years. They must have been from right after I met her. We must have been around twelve or thirteen._ They had so much fun swimming in the manor's pool, watching scary movies in the screening room or just joking around in his room.

 He turned the page to see himself a little older, high school age. He was holding the girl as they were obviously no longer just friends. He was reminded of that witty, smart and fun girl as he looked at a picture of her giving him a wicked grin. _Look at us, thinking we could take on the world whole_. She was his girlfriend and his best friend. He didn't even have to think too hard to remember the sound of her voice or the scent of her hair. They also had fun at that age; it was just a _different_ kind of fun. Since he left Gotham, Dick had been with plenty of women, but she was the first and only girl Dick ever really...

  _It's been so long. I should call her._

 An image flashed through his mind of the same beautiful girl laying unconscious in a hospital bed, wires and tubes sticking into her. With that thought an electric jolt ran through his body and Dick slammed the book closed. No, he can't call her. What the hell was he supposed to say? _'Hey, it's been like four years since we talked and I didn't even call you when the the worst thing in your entire life happened._ ' He shook his head in disgust and put the album back in his pack. Dick ran his hands through his hair and slumped back on the bed.

 That was one regret Dick couldn't let go of.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this one. This is a pretty emotional chapter for obvious reasons.
> 
> It might seem weird that Dick isn't brooding over his parent's death, but a major aspect of the character is that he was able to heal from his trauma. That's what set him apart from Batman (and one of the reasons Batman respects and admires him). And as you can see, Dick has other things from his past that bother him.


	6. Chapter 6

Johnny woke in a haze. He couldn't see much and realized that a black bag covered his head. He squirmed, but couldn't move as his hands were still handcuffed from when the cops picked him up and his legs were strapped to the chair he was sitting in.

Last night after that hotshot superhero knocked him out, he woke up in an alley feeling like crap. A couple of cops came to pick him up after they received a tip, but instead of bringing him to the lockup, they knocked him out too. He was used to the BPD shaking him down once in a while, even banging him up, but he never woke up with a black bag over his head.

The bag that covered his head was stiflingly hot and it was getting hard to breathe. Although a few rays of light streamed through the weave in the fabric, he couldn't see anything. He called out for help, but no one answered. A few minutes passed and he tried pleading. Just as he was about to start blubbering and begging, he heard footsteps approaching.

With a frantic squeak, he asked, “W-who's there?”

A deep voice, the deepest voice Johnny had ever heard, rumbled, “How long has he been here?”

“About three hours, sir,” a sultry female voice with a fancy English accent replied.

The bag was ripped off Johnny's head and he blinked as the light temporarily blinded him. As his eyes adjusted, he looked up. And up. And then up some more. Standing in front of him was a mountain of a man. He stood at least seven feet tall and was ridiculously thick with muscle. Red eyes from a granite-like face stared down at him. The monster of a man was bald, but had prominent sideburns and an oversized cranium. Despite looking like the world's biggest bruiser, the giant wore a dapper three piece suit and giant, shiny leather wingtips covered his massive feet.

“Gilligan Jackson?” He boomed.

No one called Johnny that anymore. Whoever this guy is must have access to his records.

He had been so focused on this giant that he hadn't even checked out his surroundings. He cast his eyes around and found that they were in some old warehouse by the docks. Bright morning sunlight streamed in through the dusty windows and the sound of seagulls filled the air. The 'haven had no shortage of abandoned warehouses especially in the bay.

The giant man held his hands behind his back and walked over to a window, “Up until now I didn't care about your business. You are too small to have any effect on my affairs.”

In the corner stood a blond lady dressed in red. Her long hair was tied into a tight braid. She had icy blue eyes and her pale skin was flawless. She looked pretty cute from where Johnny sat, but the cold look on her face and the situation Johnny found himself in deterred him from checking her out fully.

“N—no sir, you don't have ta worry about me, sir.” Johnny whined, “I'm just a small time guy. Small-time Johnny. That's what they call me.”

“Shut up, Gilligan. I hate when cowards grovel to me. It offends my senses,” The man didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to. Every word out of his mouth was terrifying.

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. I didn't mean to offend you...I mean...” Johnny trailed off as the man turned to him with his rock hard gaze.

The man paced around the old building, seeming to inspect the beams and dust covered windows. “My people tell me you had an interesting meeting last night. Do you mind sharing the details with me?”

“Y—yes, sir. I was just sellin' some China Cat to dis tweaker. Smells like he lives in a sewer, but good customer. Comes every few days and--”

“I don't care about your degenerate clientele.” His brows furrowed and his lip twitched.

“Oh yeah a'course.” His throat felt bone try and he swallowed, “Anyway, after I finished my business, some crazy guy dressed in a black suit grabs me and dangles me four stories above the street.”

The giant, who had crossed his arms in front of his chest, began tapping his index finger in annoyance. “And?”

“Yeah, he asked me some questions about all the crazy crap thats been goin' on in da 'haven. You know with the killings and stuff. Wanted to know about the new guy in town.”

“And what did you tell him?” He asked, annoyance painting his face.

Johnny wasn't a genius, but he knew that this guy was the new guy. “I told him I don't know much but you's from Gotham and with the guys whose heads been cranked backwards...”

“Yes...” the sinister intent oozed from his voice. “Anything else, Gilligan?”

“No, sir,” Johnny stared at his feet, unable to keep looking at the terrifying man. “I don't know anything. I'm just small-time.

“His name, you idiot.”The giant man sighed, “What did this vigilante call himself.”

“Umm, ahh,” Johnny racked his brain, but he couldn't remember. Getting knocked out twice in less than eight hours didn't help his already terrible memory. “I don't remember.”

The blond beauty in the corner sighed in exasperation and hurried over to them, her clear blue eyes as cold and unfeeling as diamond. In a smooth movement, she grabbed Johnny by the back of his hair and held the tip of a thin blade in front of his eye. In terror, Johnny watched the tip hover slightly less than an inch from his eyeball.

“You low-life cur. You will bloody well tell Mr. Desmond the name of the vigilante or I will begin cutting. And I assure you, it will not be quick.”

Liquid warmth streamed down his leg as he whined and tried desperately to remember what he called himself. Something 'wing'? Lightwing, Darkwing...Johnny's body was covered in a cold sweat and he tried not to move. Oh, he wished he was back in his normal life. He wished it was last night.

“NIGHT!” He screamed, “NIGHTWING!”

“Nightwing?” The woman backed off slightly.

“Johnny let out a breath of relief and added, “Yeah—yes. He called himself Nightwing. Black suit with some blue symbol on his chest. Real pretty boy. Looked like he should be on some soap opera, not fightin' crime.”

“Thank you, Lady Vic. That will be enough.” Mr. Desmond said and the woman stepped back, sheathing her blade behind her back.

“Have you heard about this Nightwing before, sir?” she asked, flicking her long braid like a model.

“Yes, he doesn't seem to be tied down to any one city. He has been sighted in New York, San Francisco and Chicago.” He stroked his chin in thought, “I have also heard that he has connections to various vigilantes across the country. There are even rumours he has worked with the Bat of Gotham.”

“Sound troublesome.”

“Yes, but, things being how they are, it was only a matter of time before we had to deal with one of their ilk.” He turned his gaze to Lady Vic, “Take care of it.”

“Yes, sir. And sir...” she turned her perfectly sculpted face to Johnny.

“Ah, yes. I almost forgot.” He approached Johnny.

“No, please!” His voice squeaked like a frightened rodent, “I told you everything know. Just let me go.”

Tears blurred Johnny's vision as the giant reached out and grasped his head, one hand on each side. With a unfeeling, nonchalant movement, Mr. Desmond effortlessly twisted Johnny's head. Johnny's vision spun around as he heard a sickening crack. His body spasmed uncontrollably and the chair fell over.

 In Johnny's last seconds of life, he heard the woman say, “Still the same Blockbuster.”

 

****

 

After a shower and a quick breakfast, Dick went out looking for more avenues of information gathering. Whoever he was talking to last night had said they were going to do some digging for him, but he wasn't so inclined to trust some anonymous person who hacked into his earpiece. So, he went looking for somewhere he could keep his ear to the ground.

 Sweat from the summer humidity clung to Dick as he strolled through downtown Bludhaven. A few blocks from his apartment building, he noticed a few Bludhaven PD patrol cars parked in front of an old bar. The blinking neon sign in the window read 'Hogan's Alley'. There didn't seem to be any problem, so Dick crossed to the bar and peered in the grimy window. Within was a dozen or so cops sitting at the bar or lounging in the booths and tables. Some were watching reruns of last night's baseball game, but most were just stooped over their drinks. Dick noticed with a grin that there was a 'help wanted' sign sitting in the window.

 Dick strolled in and walked up to the bar. The place was dim and a little worn down, but in surprisingly decent condition as compared to the other establishments he had been to in the city.

 “What can I get ya, lad?” The bartender asked. He was a tall man of around his late fifties with a build that would have once been powerful, but much of it had gone to fat. He wore a welcoming smile under his bushy moustache.

 “I'm looking for a job and I saw your sign,” Dick pointed at the front window.

 The man looked Dick over with skeptical eyes, “You ever tended a bar before?”

 “Nope, but I'm a quick learner.” Dick flashed his confident smile.

 “Sometimes you'd need to work late. Is that a problem?”

 “No problem at all,” Dick surveyed his surroundings, “In fact, I guess I am sort of a night owl.”

 “As you can see, most of the clientele are in law enforcement.” He swept his arm to his customers, “You the type that gets nervous around cops?”

 Dick looked around him. Most of the cops in the bar didn't seem to care what was going on. Whether it was from drink or general apathy, it didn't really matter. “Nope, you could say I'm used to working with law enforcement.”

 The bartender crossed his arms in front of his chest and took a few more moments to think. “Whatever, I'll give you a shot, kid. Your pay is minimum wage plus whatever tips you get. See you at 8pm Mr...?”

 “Grayson, Dick Grayson,” Dick extended his hand to the man.

 The bartender grasped his hand in a vice-like, but still friendly, grip, “Hank Hogan. Nice ta meet ya, Dick.”

 

****

 

Dick's first shift was uneventful. Hogan's Alley was never busy, but, from what Dick saw, there seemed to be a steady stream of cops coming and going. Dick mostly swept floors, bussed tables and washed glasses while Hank manned the bar.

 “So I guess this is the favourite watering hole for Bludhaven's off-duty cops,” Dick said as they hit a lull with nothing to do.

 “Off-duty?” Hank chuckled and clapped Dick on the back, “Kid, most of these guys are on the clock.”

 Dick covered his shock with a weak smile. If something like this happened in the Gotham, Commissioner Gordon would go on the warpath. He knew that the Bludhaven PD was bad, but he never imagined they would spend their shifts getting drunk.

 As it was nearing midnight and the end of Dick's shift, he spotted a cop take a phone call and discreetly slip off to the back hallway of the bar that led to the restroom. Dick nonchalantly walked to the nearest table and began wiping it down with his back to the cop.

 The cop yelled out, “You mind givin' me some privacy?”

 Dick already planned for this and had a pair of earbuds on. He turned to the cop and pointed to his ears and mimed he couldn't hear what the man said. He waved Dick off and he picked out his rag and left. As Dick walked off, he carefully placed a pinhead sized microphone on the wall of the hallway.

 As Dick proceeded to wipe down the tables on the other side of the bar, he listened in on the cop's conversation through his earbuds.

 “Yeah it's fine, just some moron cleaning tables.”

 There was a long pause. Dick wished he could hear the other person's voice.

 “Whaddya mean? Tonight? It's usually longer between pickups,” another pause, “That bad, huh? This new guy's really a pain in da ass.”

 Could this be the lead Dick was looking for?

 “Yeah, yeah I'll leave in a sec....Yeah, I know. Same place as always, right?”

 The cop shut off his phone and walked into the restroom.

 Dick was thankfully finished and started leaving, “Hey, Hank. Looks like him done, can I get going?”

 “In a hurry, eh?” He said, as he counted the day's money in the register, “Got a hot date or sumthin?”

 “Something like that,” Dick smirked.

 “Yeah, sure. Get outta here,” He waved Dick towards the door and as Dick was about to leave he added, “Good work tonight, kid.”

 From they alley, Dick effortlessly bounded to the roof. Before his shift, he stashed a spare suit up there in case he didn't have time to got back to his apartment. With all the years of experience, Dick was able to slip on all his gear in less than a minute and in that practised speed, he changed.

 From the edge of the roof he watched the cop walk to his car. Nightwing had already placed a tracker on it after he exited the bar and before scaling the building. The car drove off and he followed, leaping from rooftop to rooftop and swinging between buildings with his grapnel. Although the car wasn't going that fast, it was difficult keeping up. He really needed his own vehicle.

 After trying to trail the car and failing, he needed to rely on his tracker. Nightwing pulled out his phone and watched the dot representing the car make it's way to its destination. After a few minutes of patiently watching, Nightwing saw that the car finally stopped at Stark Ave, under the raised rail line. He slipped his phone into a pouch and hurried there.

 As he approached, he saw the cop and another man. The cop handed a beige envelope to the man and received a bulging envelope in exchange. Unfortunately for Nightwing, just as he landed and perched on the rail line above the street, the other man was just getting into his car. _Dammit_ , _too slow_ , he thought as the other guy drove off. He wanted to listen in on their conversation, but he supposed he would just have to ask this particular member of Bludhaven's finest some questions.

 After counting his money, the cop leaned against his car and lit a cigarette. As he took long breaths of tobacco and exhaled languidly, Nightwing silently descended to the street. Keeping low, he snuck up beside the officer.

 “Those thing'll kill ya,” He stood.

 The cop spun and pulled out his gun. Nightwing batted the gun out of the cop's hand. Knocking a gun out of an surprised opponent's hand was easier than trying to wrestle with him while it was still in its holster.

 The cop wasn't done and pulled out his baton, flicking it down to extend the telescoping length. He took a few clumsy swings, which the vigilante easily dodged. He pulled his a eskrima stick and slammed it down at the cop's wrist, making him drop his baton and possibly breaking the bone.

 The man grunted in pain and before he could do anything else, Nightwing grabbed him by the collar and tossed him hard against the side of the patrol car. He sent a hard punch to the cop's gut just to show he was serious and grabbed him once again by the collar.

 “I really don't like beating up cops, so lets just get this over with.”

 “Screw you!”

 Nightwing rolled his eyes and headbutted the cop. As the cop regained his senses, Nightwing continued, “Now, all I want is just to ask some questions. You answer me and we can both go home.”

 “I ain't talking to no damn—“

 The cop's sentence was cut off as a dart flew out of the darkness and into his neck. Nightwing dropped him and searched his surroundings. The streets were abandoned, but most of the street lamps were shattered, leaving plenty of places to hide in the darkness. He kept low and gripped his weapons.

 A woman came strolling out of the dark. She was wearing a skintight red suit with gold trim that showed off quite a nice figure and an abundance of cleavage. Nightwing could see that she was a blond with her long braid blowing in the wind behind her, but the top half of her face was obscured by some kind of white and red mask.

 “And here I thought I was the only masked weirdo in town,” he said, readying himself for an attack, “We should hang out, swap stories, share the name of the new big bad in town.”

 Her full ruby red lips smiled and she bounded towards him. From behind her back, she pulled out a pair of Katar, Indian push daggers. She attacked with a flurry of slashes, swipes and punches. Nightwing managed to dodge and parry her attacks with his eskrima sticks, but he was surprised by her speed and skill.

 “I have never fought one of your kind before. I must admit, tis most fun I have had in a very long time.” she said in a high-class English accent while they circled each other, “But, alas, business matters come first.”

 With that, a van burst out from a side street. As the woman took several graceful backwards handsprings, the van's door slid open to reveal a machine gun that would usually be mounted on the roof of a military vehicle.

 Nightwing bounded for cover behind the steel support beam of the raised rail-line as the bullets started flying. They shredded the ground as they followed him and he knew as he took cover behind the beam, that he couldn't hide forever.

 The solution to his problem came when he heard the approaching sound of a train. Fate was on his side as the machine gun ran out of ammo just at the right time. As the thugs manning it began to reload, Nightwing fired his grapple at the overhead rail and pulled himself up. The woman, seeing what he was planning, pulled an antique revolver out of a belt holster and took chase. She began firing and would have hit him if he stayed still for the barest moment.

 Nightwing's heart thudded in his chest as he avoided gunfire and prepared himself. This stunt could go fatally wrong in at least two way. One: he could get hit by one of supermodel-assassin's bullets or Two: he could time things wrong and end up like a squashed bug on a windshield.

 As the train just started passing, he fired his grapple gun at a tall building across the way. He pulled himself just high enough to get over the train's roof and then released. He landed hard and rolled. His roll took him over the side of the train and down to the street forty feet below. If he was one millisecond slower, he would not have been able to grab onto a ladder wrung that was attached to the train car.

 His shoulder screamed as he pulled himself atop the train car. With panting breaths and pounding heart, he lay on the roof of the train. _Never a dull day in the life of a superhero._

 

****

 

As Nightwing made his way home, his earpiece dinged. _Huh, another call from our mystery friend, Mr or Ms Oracle. Well, at least this time they were more polite about it._

 He tapped his earpiece and said, “Yes?”

 “Heard you got into some trouble tonight.” It was that same digitally masked voice and that infuriating sense of familiarity.

 “Yeah?” Dick wasn't surprised. A huge firefight with a machine gun would make the news anywhere, even Bludhaven.

 “You'll be relieved to hear the police officer survived. Just a broken nose, wrist and probably one heck of a headache.”

 “Listen—“

 “So, who were you fighting?” Oracle interrupted, “On second thought, you don't need to tell me now. We'll talk about it when you get back.”

 “What are you talking about?” Nightwing asked in annoyance.

 “Back at your apartment,” The voice said, “I'm waiting here.”

 Nightwing's blood ran cold. Whoever this was knew that he used to be Robin, where he lived and most probably his real name. They were obviously knowledgeable and could do some serious damage to not only him, but the people close to him.

 “I don't know how you know what you do, but—“

 “Just get back here,” the voice said and ended transmission.

 Nightwing swore at himself. What was he supposed to do? He could call some allies, but no, that would just get them involved in all this. He took a few steadying breaths and nodded his head. He would have to deal with this himself.

 

****

 

Instead of taking the obvious route and entering his apartment via the balcony, he snuck through the bedroom window. Taking care to be silent, he moved through the dark room and into the hallway. As he walked into the living room/dining room, he noticed a laptop on the table. A laptop that didn't belong to him. Beside the table on the floor, sat a few small equipment bags.

 As Nightwing dumbfoundedly examined the items he heard the floor creaking several feet behind him in the kitchen. A few drops of sweat beaded down his face. What if it was someone with a gun or another machine gun.

 In a flash of speed, he spun and threw a wingding at the intruder. In a feat of impressive reflexes, the intruder tilted their head and avoided the projectile that was coming straight for their forehead. The wingding thudded into the wall behind and Dick stood stock still in shock.

 Across the room was someone Dick hasn't seen for two years and hasn't talked to in four. She smiled that same wicked smile he remembered and he just stared in confusion. Pulling his wits back together, Dick managed to say her name.

 “Babs?”

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

“Babs?”

Before him sat a beautiful young woman in a low profile wheelchair. She was everything he remembered: fiery red hair, bright emerald green eyes, a few freckles dotted the pale skin of her cheeks. A few things had changed: she had cut her long, crimson locks into a more sensible shoulder length and she wore glasses now when she used to prefer contacts, but she was definitely still the same girl he used to know.

“You might want to close your mouth, Grayson,” she said, grinning. She always loved surprising him. “You might start collecting flies.”

He shut his mouth and pulled off his mask. He stumbled around for words and could only say, “Babs?...Babs?”

“That's me,” she winked, “Same old Barbara Gordon.”

“Why are you here?” Dick took a moment to think as she smiled knowingly at him, “Wait...You're Oracle?”

“Weren't you raised by the world's greatest detective?” She wheeled over to him and playfully thumped him on the chest with a knuckle. “Can't get by on your looks forever, Boy Wonder.”

After all these years, she really was the same girl he practically grew up with. It was more than he could have hoped for to be like this with her. She was still playfully teasing him, almost like those four years of distance never happened. But, why was she helping him? Dick felt that tug of resentment in his mind as suspicions dawned on him.

“Did he send you?” His voice was more stern than he intended.

Barbara was taken aback a bit and said, “He who?”

“You know who, Babs?”

“No, Dick, Bruce did not send me here to keep on eye on you if that's what you think.” She sounded a bit offended. "You're not the only one who can make decisions without consulting the big bad bat of Gotham."

Dick looked down at her. _Dammit, Grayson. Good work, idiot_ , “I'm sorry, its just that...”

“I know,” she said gently and shook her head, “You two are the same. So damn stubborn.”

Dick felt like saying something to that, but he didn't want to argue. Not now. Not with Babs. He grabbed a folding chair that he found in a closet when he moved in and sat next to her.

“It's good to see you, Dick.” She said, placing a gentle, warm hand on his.

“You, too. I missed you,” He couldn't help but be drawn into her emerald eyes.

Unconsciously, his eyes slid down to her unmoving legs. A spike of guilt shot through him like an electric shock and he pulled his hand away. He averted his eyes as the shame rushed back to him.

She used to be Batgirl when he was Robin. The three of them were an unstoppable team keeping Gotham safe from all the greedy and insane that threatened it. Then one day he left Gotham—and Barbara. A couple years later, she answered her front door to find the Joker holding a gun. Dick felt a heaviness in his gut at the thought of that bullet ripping through her and shattering her spine.

He knew by the way she looked at him, that she knew what he was thinking. She put on a fake smile that would have fooled anyone except Dick and said, “Wow, look at you. New name, new city. Dick Grayson's finally grown up.”

_Yeah, except I grew up and changed my name four years ago. We would have been able to have this conversation years ago if I just came to visit or even just called you. But, I was just a stupid, spineless coward_. That's what he wanted to say to her, but he gave his own fake smile and said, “Yeah, pretty cool, huh?”

He looked around at the equipment again and said, “And you, you're Oracle now. Hacking into everyone's comm devices and pretending to be someone else.”

She winced and gave an apologetic bow of her head, “Yeah, sorry about that. I guess I was just nervous about seeing you again and being Oracle makes me feel more confident.”

Some things never change. Despite being fun, interesting, beautiful and a bona fide genius, Babs always saw herself as just an average girl. It wasn't just some misplace sense of humbleness, she really didn't realize how amazing she was even after he told her about a million times. When she put on her Batgirl suit, however, she let the strong and confident person come out. Sometimes she could even be brash and boisterous and it was always fun kicking ass for justice with her.

“So this Oracle thing...” the question was obvious in his tone.

“Yeah, I guess it's my new thing,” She nodded to the laptop and equipment, “After...well I didn't really have anything else to do. I couldn't be Batgirl anymore for...obvious reasons. So, about a year ago I decided I'd use what I could do to help anyway I could. Now use my keyboard instead of fists and feed info to heroes.”

“That's great, I'm happy for you,” He tried not to look at her legs or the chair, “But, Babs, what your doing could be pretty dangerous. I mean—“

“You are warning me about danger? You? The guy who jumps off rooftops without thinking?” Her eyes narrowed, “If you didn't notice, I am quite acquainted with danger and I can take care of myself.”

Dick winced at that. He didn't have the right to give her any speeches. After all, he wasn't there when she needed him, “Sorry, I just—I just don't want you to get hurt.”

She let out a sigh and rolled her eyes. He expression softened and she said, “It's okay, Grayson. I have some pretty complicated and impressive security measures to stay anonymous. No one is getting on my tail.” She stretched her toned arms over her head and continued, “Now that all that's out of the way, lets get down to some superhero business.”

It wasn't out of the way as Dick still had so much more he wanted to tell her, but she was right. She obviously came here for more than just to catch up, “Okay, lets.”

She moved to her laptop and began typing, “I'm still working with the info you got the other day, but it wasn't much. This new player is from Gotham and there have been several Gotham criminals that have been MIA for months. But, you know Gotham criminals; they go to ground all the time and always come back. What can you tell me about tonight's festivities.”

“There was this woman—“

“Not those kind of festivities, Boy Wonder,” she smirked.

“Seriously, she works for this new guy. She spoke with a high-class English accent and wore a red suit with gold trim,” He pictured her in his mind, “About mid-twenties or so, five foot nine, around one thirty five, platinum hair held in a long braid.”

“You always had a good memory for ladies,” She said as she typed, “Are you going to tell me her bra size next?”

“Couldn't get a good read on that. There was a lot of movement, with her trying to kill me and all,” he grinned.

“Anything else? Something unique about her?”

“Yeah there was,” he thought back, “She used Katar...Its a Indian—“

“I know what they are,” she continued to type.

“Anyway, not any baddies I've ever dealt with used those and with the skill she did,” he crossed his arms in front of his chest and thought, “They were very well made. Antiques, I think. In fact, she also used an antique revolver. I'd say from late 19th century. Silver plated, some very fancy engraving from what I could see.”

“Hmm,” she continued to type, “A paid thug with an high-class English accent who uses antique weapons.”

Moments passed while Babs searched. Dick realized that he was still wearing his suit and was still coated with the sweat, dirt and dust of the night, “I'm gonna take a shower.”

“'kay,” Babs absently said. She was always able to get thoroughly immersed in her work whether it be homework or a crime scene.

Closing the door behind him, Dick entered the washroom and pulled off his suit. Inspecting his back in the mirror, he found a large bruise and several smaller welts obviously from his stunt with the train. They would be terribly painful for a normal person, but he had been doing the vigilante thing since he was twelve and, for him, they just mildly hurt. Just another wound to go on his long list. At least he wouldn't have a new scar to add to the few dozen scattered over his skin.

As he stood under the cool water in the shower, he couldn't help but smile. Babs was back and it was just like yesterday they were hanging out and having fun. It was great. What was he so afraid of these past few years?

He remember the first time her met her. He was an angry twelve year old slumming it at a charity gala Bruce dragged him to on the top floor of the Wayne Enterprises building. He was alone on the balcony staring out at the Gotham skyline and he heard a voice behind him. He turned and there she was—Barbara Gordon, the commissioner's daughter. They made small talk for a few minutes. When the topic of his parents came up, she was kind to him, as everyone was, but she didn't have that look of pity in her eyes like everyone else.

From that night on, they became best friends with Bruce pulling some strings to get her a scholarship to Gotham Academy, Dick's school. But, to Dick, she was more than just his friend. She wore braces and hated them, but to Dick she was the prettiest girl he had ever seen. She got straight A's but never bragged about them and was even embarrassed to show him her marks on tests. She cooked and cleaned the apartment she shared with her dad because it was only the two of them, but Dick never once heard her complain about chores.

He recalled the first time he saw her as Batgirl; her lithe frame brought provocative thoughts to his fifteen year old mind. Her cocky daredevil attitude only surpassed by his own. Although it was months before they knew who was beneath their masks, Dick felt a familiarity with her. She was always so full of life and energy.

Then the image of her laying on that hospital bed flashed into his mind. He remembered standing at the foot of the bed in the darkened room. Feelings of powerlessness and inconsolable rage warred in him as he watched her laying unconscious in a coma. He could still hear the machines breath for her and the steady pinging of the heart monitor. Her skin was pallid and sickly and her fiery red hair lay limp and ragged. His heart was tattered at the thought that he would never get to see those emerald eyes full of life again or hear her uplifting laugh again. He hated the Joker for what he did to her. But, more so, he hated himself for leaving her.

 

 

Barbara couldn't believe it. She actually did it! Yeah, it was stupid for her to get so excited about it. She was, after all, hacker extraordinaire, Oracle and not a kid anymore. But, it was great to finally see him again. Of course it isn't the same as it was when they were kids, with her as the starstruck girl with something to prove and Dick as the brash kid who always looked like he was just having fun and never afraid of anything. Obviously she wasn't the girl anymore who was absolutely enamoured with with sexy, confident Dick Grayson whose smile could always melt her brain. Nope, that ship had sailed a long time ago when she ended up in the chair. However, it was great seeing him again—And, of course, he still looked amazing.

Dick still had his boyish good looks, but he didn't have the baby-faced innocence to him anymore. He looks more experienced. More seasoned. Though still lean, his muscles have filled out more and a light stubble covered his cheeks.

She heard a click and turned to see Dick exit the washroom. He was only wearing a pair of sweatpants and Barbara's eyes went wide. She couldn't stop the blush come as heat spread up her neck to cover her face. She forgot what he looked like with his shirt off.

“Hey,” He said, running a towel over his raven black hair.

Barbara realized she was staring and quickly turned back to her laptop and coughed out, “H-hey, have a good shower?”

“Yeah...I guess so,” he walked behind her and leaned over her shoulder to see the screen, “Find anything.”

She tried to ignore the sight of his naked chest beside her face. Through the reflection on the screen, she saw a few wet locks of hair hanging in front of his face. It reminded her of when they were younger and would come back to her place after patrol when her dad was working late. They'd sneak through her bedroom window and take a shower to clean off the sweat of the night. Then they would... _Do some things I should not be thinking about right now!_

She shook her head, “Yeah, I think so.”

Dick leaned in closer and Barbara could tell, by the smell, that he used the same soap they used to use, “Hmm, Lady Vic?”

“Lady Elaine Marsh-Morton,” she said, able to get back into her Oracle mode, “She's descended from a long line of British soldiers, explorers and hunters. She's a genuine English aristocrat, for what it's worth.”

“For what it's worth?”

“Yeah, seems that her dad liked poker a lot. Only problem was: he wasn't very good at it. Blew their entire fortune by the time she was eighteen,” She summarized the intel INTERPOL had, “Being broke, she tried her hand at mercenary work using the antique weapons her family had amassed over the centuries. Turns out she was pretty good at it.”

“Seems like Europe was getting too hot for her to work in and she disappeared a few months ago,” Dick skimmed over the reports.

“And coincidentally, a gang war breaks out in Bludhaven and people start washing up with their heads twisted around just a few weeks after she was last sighted.” She brought up a picture of her at an airport in Berlin.

“Good work, Babs—I mean Oracle,” he nodded, “At least we have something now.”

A wide grin covered her face as she felt a bit of pride being able to show him how capable Oracle really was. Dick's head turned to look at her with a grin, but that grin quickly faded as he stared at her. Her own grin was gone as well as she felt herself pulled into his clear blue eyes. Those eyes had a familiar look in them; a look she was all too familiar with when she was an eager teenager.

She saw that Dick was slowly leaning his face towards her. Her heart was fluttering and she swallowed the lump in her throat. _What's the worst that could happen if we...It was good when we were younger. So good. And he is so handsome._

_NOPE!_ The logical part of her brain yelled, _Get a hold of yourself, Gordon!_ Barbara snapped her head back. Confusion and then embarrassment flashed on Dick's face as he stumbled back, a blush covering his cheeks.

“Oh wow, look at the time,” She clapped the laptop shut and wheeled backwards as Dick quickly sidestepped to save his toes from being run over.

“Yeah, yeah,” He was rubbing his neck in that way he always did when he was embarrassed.

“You've been up all night getting shot at,” She said, “And Gotham to Bludhaven is a long drive, especially when you have to use just your arms.”

“You drove here?”

“Yeah, got me a van. You can call it the Oraclemoble. I mean...I don't and no one else ever has, but...” _Smooth, Gordon_ she thought, “Anyway, I guess I'll go find a hotel or something.”

“Hotel?” He raised his eyebrow and held his hands at his hips, “Babs...you can just ask.”

“Ask what?” she tilted her head slightly and furrowed her brow.

“You know as well as I do that there isn't a decent hotel in Bludhaven.”

“Well, I guess I can hang out in my van,” She bit her lip, thinking, “Do some work in there.”

“In this heat?! Hell no. I won't allow it.”

“Who the hell are you to—“

“Babs, just stay here!”

Her eyes went wide. She was embarrassed to admit that she didn't actually plan on where she would stay. She was just so excited to see him again that she must have forgotten. A blush coloured her cheeks and she looked at the ground, “You sure? I don't want to intrude.”

“No problem,” he put on that same charming smile, “the bed's big enough for two.”

“W—what?!” she choked out.

Dick doubled over in hysterical laughter. Barbara realized he was making fun of her and gave him a venomous glare.

“I'm joking. I'm joking,” he said as he wiped a tear from his eye and patted the old couch, “You take the bed. From the little I used this couch, it felt pretty comfy.”

“Okay...I guess,” she shrugged.

“Great,” Dick blurted out with a little too much excitement and then reined himself back, “Gimme your keys. I'll get your bags.”

After Dick ran across the street to where her van was parked and fetched her bags, Barbara threw on an old t-shirt and some shorts and readied for bed. She heard a knock at the bedroom door, “Yeah?”

The door opened and Dick popped his head in, “Hey, got everything settled? Need anything?”

“Nope, I'm good.” she said, pulling her shirt down, trying to cover her legs.

Dick took a long moment to stare at her shirt and said, “Alright. If you need anything, just yell.”

“Okay, g'nite.”

Dick nodded, stepped back and closed the door.

Barbara took a moment to think, _What was he staring at?_ She looked down at her t-shirt and realized that it was Dick's shirt. It was his prized t-shirt he got at a reunion concert for his favourite band. Although Barbara had never actually listened to them, Dick gave it to her when they were sixteen. It was a sweet gesture and she proudly wore it to bed afterwards.

She sighed as she locked the wheels of chair and pulled herself onto the bed. What did Dick think? She was still holding a torch for him. She didn't even think about the shirt like that. It just felt nice. It felt right. As she snuggled into the bed, she caught a whiff of that same soap coming off of the pillow. Smelled nice. Made her feel comfortable.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to get this added. I've been busy with my novel and life stuff, but I am still dedicated to getting this story finished. I'm not the type of writer who does heavy outlining (especially for fanfics) but I have a general idea of how this story will go. At the very least, I know what will happen in the last chapter and a few big plot points leading up to it. I especially have character development locked down in my mind for our two main characters. Hell, I have a whole other story of character development for them (but that will wait until I finish this story).
> 
> Once again, comments and criticism is welcome and encouraged. I would especially like to see how people feel about the banter between the characters (especially between Dick and Babs) if it feels real, natural, etc.


	8. Chapter 8

A crashing noise pulled Dick out of his slumber. Out of instinct, he flipped over the back of the couch and landed in a crouch, ready for danger. As his eyes adjusted to the morning light, he saw Babs in his kitchen with all the cupboard doors open. His sudden movement had obviously startled her and she defensively grasped an old, cast iron frying pan he picked up at a nearby thrift store.

Her surprise wore off and she said, “Don't you have any food in this place?!”

Dick cleared his throat and tried to look casual as he straightened from his combat ready crouch. “I have food.”

“Two cans of ravioli and a couple packets of orange juice crystals doesn't count as food.” She pointed to a cupboard containing his meager food rations.

“Yeah, but I just moved in,” he gave her his charming grin, “and, anyway, I'm a bachelor.”

She rolled her eyes and said, “Yeah and you were also raised by a butler who would cook you gourmet food for every meal.”

“Yeah, I miss Alfred's eggs benedict,” Dick said wistfully.

Babs rolled her eyes and grumbled at that. Dick knew that she was probably planning on making breakfast. She was always so responsible, having to cook and clean for her dad ever since her mom left when she was just a kid. When they were in high school, she was always on him about studying and getting into a good college. Well Dick did go to college, Gotham U with Babs; unfortunately his college career ended before his first year was over when he swept out of Gotham in a fury.

Babs sighed and said, “Well, I guess we need to go out. My brain needs fuel and you need to eat to keep up...all that.” She waved at his bare chest.

 

After a ride down the ancient elevator, they arrived at the lobby and saw Clancy sweeping the floors. She saw them and walked over. “Oi, Dick. Good mornin' to ya. Who's yer friend?”

“Bridget Clancy, this is Barbara Gordon.” Dick motioned to Babs. “She's an old friend from Gotham.”

Clancy grasped Babs hand and shook with gusto. She smiled her toothy grin and said, “Gotham, eh? What brings ya down to the 'haven?”

“Just helping Dick with some business.” She gave Dick a discreet wink.

“Barbara Gordon from Gotham...” Clancy furrowed her brow in thought. “Ya wouldn't be related to—“

“Commissioner Jim Gordon.” She nodded. “He's my dad.”

“Wow, the commissioner's girl,” she chuckled and playfully elbowed Dick. “Got friends in high place, do ya?”

“You have no idea.”

They quickly said their goodbyes and walked to Babs' van. It was a fairly low key looking from the outside with a standard white paint job and dark tinted windows. Dick offered to help her in, but she waved him off as a motorized lift emerged from the driver's side and lowered to the ground. Dick watched to make sure she got in safely, but Babs was obviously used to using it so he hopped in the passenger seat.

Last night when he picked up her luggage, he didn't have much time to examine Babs' 'Oraclemobile', but in the light of morning, he could take it all in. Up front was, Dick assumed, the same as any other van converted for arms-only driving. The back, however, was kitted out in an array of high tech equipment. A few screens were bolted to the wall along with a few low profile computer cases. What looked like a fold-out desk with a keyboard and trackpad affixed to it was also attached to the wall. Wires were running to to the computers, monitors and other pieces of equipment Dick didn't recognize. With all that tech, Babs could easily take her Oracle duties on the road and be just as effective as she would be working from the Batcave.

“Nice wheels,” he nodded.

“Huh?” She looked down at her chair and then realized he was talking about the van. “Yeah, courtesy of a small-business grant from Wayne Enterprises.”

“Sure is roomier than that little hatchback you used to drive,” Dick recalled the old junker her dad bought for her on her seventeenth birthday. It was obviously bigger than his old motorcycle, but it was still a little cramped for the things they used to do in there.

As they drove though the pothole ridden streets of Bludhaven, Babs said, “Know any good restaurants?”

“Ah, not really.”

“What about that place?” Babs said, pulling the van next to the curb.

Dick saw that they were parked in front of that beat up diner he stopped in after he first arrived in the city. “I don't know. I've been here before and...”

“Well, there doesn't seem to be any other places around here and I'm not going to drive around the city looking.” She began to process to get out of the van. “Anyway, how bad could it be.”

Dick swallowed a lump in his throat and let out a nervous chuckle.

As they entered, Dick holding the door for Babs, he noticed something different about the place. It was still old and the stools were still damaged, but the dingy atmosphere was gone. The place actually looked relatively clean. The tables weren't covered with dust, the floor lacked the sticky stains he remembered, and the windows must have been cleaned as the place was lit up more than before.

The same waitress who served him last time hurried from behind the counter and Dick was dumbfounded to see that she had an actual, genuine smile on her face.

“Come in, come in,” she said as she showed the to a table and removed a chair to make room for Babs. “What can I get ya to drink.”

“I'll have coffee, thanks,” Babs said, adjusting her glasses with one hand and taking up the one page menu with the other.

“Umm...yeah, me too.”

“Sure thing. Coffee for the fella and his pretty lady,” she winked at Dick.

“Ahh, were not...” Babs said, but the waitress only smiled and hurried back to the kitchen.

They ordered standard breakfast fare of eggs, bacon, and toast. Dick was surprised to find that the food was actually decent. The eggs were cooked just as they asked and the bacon and toast were crisp, but not charred. Sure, it didn't compare to Alfred's cooking, but it was pleasant.

“I don't know what you were talking about,” Babs said as she finished off the last bit of toast she had smeared with strawberry jam. “That was pretty good.”

“Yeah, I guess they were just having a bad day.” Dick looked over to the woman at the counter and was greeted by a smile and a nod which he returned.

Dick's gaze turned to Babs, who was checking her phone as she sipped at her coffee. After she placed the mug down, she absently brushed a few stray strands of crimson hair behind her ear as her emerald eyes stayed focused on the screen. She always used to do that when they were studying together and Dick, like always, couldn't help but watch her.

Being there with her made him feel that he had to tell her. It was a conversation he had with her in his mind a thousand times before. Sometimes she would yell at him for leaving Gotham the way he did. Sometimes she would pull him in, kiss him and it would be the same as it used to be and sometimes they would just sit there in awkward silence.

“Babs, there's some things I need to tell you,” his heart was thudding harder than it ever was when he was standing up to psycho supervillains.

“Hmm?” She looked up from her phone and as she did, her eyes went wide. “Dick!”

“Babs what I—“

“Behind you, Boy Wonder,” She said as she discreetly motioned with her head.

Dick tried to look casual as he turned to look out the front window. Across the street, Lady Vic was emerging from an unmarked building. She wasn't wearing her mask or elaborate outfit, but rather a tight skirted business suit. Despite her different outfit, Dick knew it was definitely her. He turned back to Babs and she nodded to him. He payed the bill, leaving a generous tip, and they made for the van. Thankfully, Lady Vic was taking a call in her parked red sports car so Dick and Babs had time to get in the van.

“Can you listen in on her?” Dick asked as he peeked at the sports car from the corner of his eye.

“No, unless I knew the exact ID of her phone, there would be too much interference.”

“Well, I guess we do this the old fashion way.”

“We tail her.” Babs nodded.

 

Barbara tried to keep a modest distance from the sports car as she tailed it. Her converted cargo van wasn't exactly the most inconspicuous vehicle on the road, but she knew how to tail a car. However, she hadn't actually had to use those skills in years. A few times, she almost lost Lady Vic, but thankfully fate smiled on her and she was always able to keep up.

Perhaps it would have been easier to concentrate on Lady Vic if Dick wasn't changing into his costume in the back of her van. Barbara just managed to not stare at the rear view mirror as he disrobed.

“She's leaving the city,” Babs said as she followed Lady Vic onto the highway.

“Okay,” Dick said from the behind her. “Just try to keep your distance.”

“I know.”

About ten minutes outside of the city, Lady Vic pulled onto a side road that ran along the cliffs overlooking the sea. After a few more minutes on this road, she pulled into the driveway of a modern house that hung precariously over the cliff. Barbara drove a little past the property until she found a copse of trees in which she could hide the van.

Barbara disengaged the lock on the floor that kept her chair in place. She carefully wheeled back, avoiding running over Dick. She folded out the desk and booted up her system. When the PC was up, she opened a GPS program.

“What're you doing?” Dick asked, peeking at the screen while leaning over her shoulder

“Just checking out who owns that house.” After finding the address, she brought up the property ownership information. “Might just lead us to her employer.”

“And here I was just going to knock on the door and ask her nicely.” He smirked.

“How you stayed alive for so long without me, I have no idea.” She looked to him with a playful raised eyebrow.

“Meh, people tell me I'm good at improvising.”

When the result came up, she said, “Hmm, interesting.”

“What?” Dick looked at the screen to see the house was owned by a Maxwell Reed, attorney at law.

“Maxwell Reed was the attorney and, if rumours to to be believed, the consigliore of Angel Marin.”

“The same Angel Marin who was the former crime boss of Bludhaven and whose been missing for weeks?”

“One and the same.” She nodded.

“That is interesting.” He nodded. “So what's Lady Vic doing at a house owned by Angel Marin's top guy? You think Marin is trying some weird play? Trying to put the fear in his competition by creating this alter ego?”

“I doubt it. Based on my research, Marin was a thug with little imagination. Going dark and creating a new persona to terrify his enemies seems beyond him.”

“So Mr. Reed, here has taken up with the new boss in town?” He swept a hand through his black hair.

“Maybe...or maybe Lady Vic is paying him a visit. Getting rid of loose ends.”

Dick's eyes went wide. Before Barbara could stop him, he pushed the doors open and rushed through. _Damn it, Dick! You never change. We don't even have a plan_. Her hands sped across the keyboard and trackpad and she brought up her communications app.

“Dick, what are you doing?” she shouted at her microphone.

“If you're right and Lady Vic is here to take care of Reed, then he is as good as dead unless I get there before she finishes,” Dick said, his voice interrupted by panting.

Barbara kept the line open and could hear the sounds of him running through the forest between them and the house. In her mind, she could imagine him bounding through the trees in the graceful way he always moved. Once in a while the sounds of footfalls would stop for a moment to be followed up by a pounding sound. No doubt, it was because he was leaping over fallen logs and other obstacles.

After about five minutes of running, Dick stopped.

“I'm at the house now. No sounds coming from inside and I can't see what's going on.”

“Wait there, I'll send a drone to scout it out.” _Damn it, why didn't I do that already_?!

“No time. I'm going in.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for taking so long to post this chapter. I've been really busy with my novel. On the bright side, I just finished the first draft of chapter 9. On a brighter side, I've really been working at getting better at writing. Been to a few writing workshops and I'm going to a writer's conference in the summer. I'll still write fanfics, but as a side thing while I try to get a professional thing going. But, my fanfics will benefit from everything I learn.
> 
> Once again, any feedback is welcome.


	9. Chapter 9

As Nightwing reached the edge of the trees, the house came into view. He crouched and sneaked towards the building. He took cover behind a shrub amonst the minimalist, but immaculately kept garden. Though the house was almost all windows, any view he might have had was obscured by vertical blinds.

He moved closer, dashing through open space and behind Lady Vic's car. Babs said she was sending a drone to scout out the house. She could probably run some thermal scans or something, but Reed might not have the time for her to deploy and fly it over.

_Nightwing's motto: Leap first, ask questions later_.

He quickly crept around the side of the house; only amateurs bust in through the front door. He found a sliding door leading to a bedroom. The blinds to this room were not drawn and he was able to see no one was waiting for him within. He tugged at the door and – lucky day for him – found it was unlocked. He slid into the room and, ever so quietly, opened the door to the hallway.

He stepped into a narrow hallway and heard a scream. Forgetting stealth, he burst out into a run and busted through the door to the room where the scream originated. Reed, a middle aged bald man, was tied to an office chair with Lady Vic looming over him. She was in costume again and holding a her antique revolver.

Hearing the racket Nightwing made when he entered, she spun. Before she could react to his presence, he sent a spinning kick at her. His kick struck her wrist and the gun went flying, shattering a window and falling down to the sea below. Not to be perturbed, she charged at him and tackled him into the hallway.

Nightwing's back hit the wall hard, pictures crunching against his suit. In a flash of movement, she had a katar in her right hand. She stabbed at his unarmoured face, but he was able to tilt his head and body just enough to avoid the strike. The blade bit up to its hilt into drywall. She pulled it free and slashed at his throat. He leapt sideways and rolled into a crouch. He needed to get out of the cramped corridor.

She came at him, a second katar in her left hand. Lady Vic sent lightning quick slashes and stabs at him in a flurry of movement. Nightwing was able to snatch his eskrima sticks from his back and dodged or parried her attacks, while backing up towards the more open living room.

To avoid a 'X' shaped slash with both blades, Nightwing backflipped over a expensive looking leather couch. It gave him enough space to breath and observe his opponent. Lady Vic was panting and sweating. Looked like she wasn't used to extended fights. However, she gave him a wicked grin that would mean something much different in more bedroom-ish environs.

"How about you save us both a lot of hassle and just give up now?" Nightwing said as she circled around the couch. "It's just so annoying, you know. Bad guys go all hacking and slashing at me and they always end up on the ground with a minor concussion and trip to the big house in their near future."

"Awfully confident in your skills, Mister Nightwing?" she said, taking a ready stance.

“No, just way too used to this stuff.” Nightwing sighed.

“I'll be sure not to disappoint you,” she said and laid into him.

She came at him again with slashes and stabs. She was certainly an aggressive fighter, seemingly unconcerned with conserving energy. Though she had him on the ropes before, he was beginning to see she fought in a certain rhythm. She switched up her moves occasionally, but those too fit a strict pattern. Avoiding, redirecting and parrying her attacks became easy.

Evidently, Lady Vic was used to finishing off her opponents quickly and with little resistance. She probably had never gone up against a trained fighter. Nightwing, on the other hand, had fought hundreds of different opponents since he was twelve years old. He had exchanged blows with brawlers like Two-Face all the way up to world-class martial artists like Lady Shiva. He also had the benefit of working with some of the best hand-to-hand heroes in the world like Wildcat and Black Canary. Not to mention, Batman was the expertly skilled and never went easy on him even when he was just a kid.

“I should really look into another line of work,” he said as he sidestepped and spun around behind her. “People have told me I should be a model, but I don't know. Seems kind of boring to me.”

Lady Vic roared and sliced horizontally at his belly. He leapt back about a foot and continued, “You just stand around all day while people take pictures of you in fancy clothes.”

She was getting frustrated now. He could tell from the snarl of her crimson lips and the redness in the visible portion of her cheeks.

“Maybe that's why they always look so miserable on the catwalk.”

Her attacks were getting slower as her movements were becoming sluggish. After a sloppy hack at his head, she stepped back. She was hunched over and panting heavily. Her platinum hair was in disarray and he could hear her breath through clenched teeth.

Nightwing peered at her with exaggerated movements. “You okay? Want to sit down? Have an electrolyte drink?”

A banshee scream broke from her lips as she rushed him. She slashed with the blade in her right hand, but Nightwing struck her wrist with the back of his fist and the katar dropped. Before she was able to follow up with the katar in her left hand, he thrust an eskrima stick into her sternum. She stumbled back and he leapt forward, catching her forehead with an armoured knee. Her mask shattered with a crunching sound as she fell, limp, to the floor.

Nightwing, panting, leaned over and braced himself on his knees for a few moments. _At least this guy has air conditioning._

He peered down at Lady Vic; she was out like a light that's been knocked out. There was a small cut on her forehead, but it should heal without a scar. Her chest was rising and falling in steady breathing. He gingerly approached her, ready in case she was playing possum. He nudged her a few times with his foot and, satisfied she was genuinely out, he zip tied her wrists and ankles.

As he made his way to Reed, the front door burst open. Nightwing raised his sticks in a fighting stance, but seeing it was two uniformed cops, he quickly sheathed them. The cops levelled their pistols at him and looked around the ruined room.

“What the hell's going on here?!” One cop, a young guy – they were both young, in fact – asked. He peered down at the trussed up woman.

“I can explain, officer.” Nightwing had his hands raised in a non threatening manner.

“Yeah, sure buddy. As soon as we start getting you masked freaks in town, things start getting weird.”

“Alvarez, check the rest of the house.” he said and the other cop slipped behind him into the hall.

“Officer--”

“Shut it, hero-boy.” He raised his gun in a manner that allowed no reproach.

“Gibson?!” the voice of the other cop called from down the hall.

“What?!”

“Got another guy tied up back here.”

Nightwing spoke slow and calm – it wasn't the first time or even the hundredth time he had a gun pointed at him. “Officer, that woman is an international assassin and the man was her target. If I wasn't here, he would've been killed.”

“I don't care what you have to say. I'm taking both you masked weirdos downtown.”

“Sorry, officer, I'm not coming with you.”

“Oh, really?” the cop gave him a humourless grin. “You gonna make this tough for me? Well, hows about I just say you came at me and I was forced to put a bullet in your dumbass brain.”

“That's no way to talk to a concerned citizen.” A voice came from outside the busted front door.

As the cop spun to meet the voice, a call of “FBI!” shot out and a tactical team streamed in the house. The cop lowered his gun as the team fanned out and secured the building.

A thirty-ish man with a wrinkled blue suit strode through the doorway. He walked with limp and needed the assistance of a cane. Nightwing watched him carefully. _Major injury to right knee. Possibly ligament damage. Still worked out his upper body based off his broad shoulders_.

The cop was looking about with wide eyes. “Who are you and what're you guys doing here?”

The FBI agent flipped his ID out and said, “Jason Bard, special investigator. The unconscious woman is wanted in connection with several murders in the US and abroad. We're taking her into custody.”

He nodded to a couple of the agents and they lifted Lady Vic and carried her out of the house.

“Agent Bard, Reed's back here.” a voice called from the office.

“Good.” He turned to the cop and said, “We'll also be taking the owner of this house, a Mister Maxwell Reed, into protective custody.”

“And what about the other masked freak?” The cop sounded insulted that Bard came in before he had a chance to shoot Nightwing.

“That, officer...” he looked at the cop's badge, “officer Gibson, is Nightwing. He's well known among the law enforcement communities. Helped us out plenty from San Francisco to Chicago to New York. You should be happy you've got a helping hand in Bludhaven.”

“Yeah, I'm sure happy that my city's gonna end up a loony bin like Gotham.”

Bard smiled and said, “If you would wait outside, officer. Your partner's already there. We just want to get your statement.”

Grumbling, officer Gibson stepped out through the front door.

Bard approached Nightwing. “Sorry we couldn't meet under better circumstances, but I understand this is typical of the contact between law enforcement and vigilantes.” He extended a hand.

Nightwing grasped his hand and shook. The guy had a strong grip. “To what do I owe this help, Agent Bard? Not that I'm complaining.”

“We got a tip that Lady Vic was in the area. At this specific address, in fact.”

“A tip, huh?”

“Yeah, there's this anonymous informant or group of informants who feeds us info from time to time. Goes by the name, 'Oracle.' Always very reliable and always right. Seems to only contact me directly, for some reason.” Bard peered at Nightwing with narrowed eyes. “You wouldn't be associated with them, would you?”

“Oh, you know us vigilantes. Everyone knows everyone.” He shrugged noncommittally.

“Hmm...” Bard didn't seem to like the non-answer, but looked willing to accept it. There was always more secrecy with masked heroes than not.

“You you want my statement or something?” Nightwing asked.

“Are you going to tell me everything? Like how you knew Lady Vic was going to be here or why you're in Bludhaven?”

“No, not really.” He shrugged again.

Bard rolled his eyes. “Then, I suppose not.”

“Okay, cool.” Nightwing smiled and nodded. “You going to keep Oracle apprised on what you get out of Reed and Lady Vic?”

“Yes and even if i didn't, I know they'd be able to hack through the FBI's best firewall anyway.”

“Yeah, probably.” Nightwing turned and strolled to the balcony overhanging the cliff. He waved behind him and said, “Nice meeting you, agent Bard.”

“Nice meeting y--”

Before Bard was able to finish his sentence, Nightwing vaulted over the railing and, to Bard's eyes, down a hundred of feet to the water. What Nightwing did, however, was catch himself on the beams beneath the balcony with a short shot of his grapple gun. He heard Bard's feet on the balcony floor as he hurried to the railing.

“Superheroes...” Bard exhaled.

_Rule number two in the superhero handbook: Always make a flashy exit_.

 

 ****

 

Barbara waited in her van until Dick got back. She had listened to his conversation with Jason and felt a little apprehension. Neither man would have known what she had with them; she just hoped Dick wouldn't ask. _Fat chance of that_.

A few knocks thumped on the van. Checking her security cameras, she saw Dick was waiting outside. She clicked an icon and the back door popped open. Dick hopped into the van and pulled the door closed behind him.

He looked sullen. It wasn't an expression he had a lot when she knew him, but she was able to recognize it easily. The next few minutes were not going to be pleasant.

“I met your buddy, Agent Bard,” he said.

“I know.” she kept her eyes on her screen. Her drones streamed video to her of the agents questioning the two cops and Reed.

“Quite a surprise that was.”

Barbara sighed and said, “I sent him a message right after you went off running.”

“He got there pretty quick. He must trust you.”

“Well, I've provided him with quality intelligence a lot over the last couple years. And I may have fed him info, a few days ago, that there would be some big developments in Bludhaven soon.”

“You must trust him.” There was a suspicion in his voice that bordered on Batman-territory. “Like you know him from more than just your time as Oracle.”

Of course this was going to happen.

“Jason used to be a detective at the GCPD under my dad. A good detective. I met him about 3 and a half years ago and we were...” _here we go Babs_ , “together.”

“Oh...you were _together_?” Dick did not seem pleased with the news. The way he said, 'together' was like how a little kid says, 'broccoli.'

“We were kinda...engaged.” _And there's everything_.

Dick coughed and if he was drinking water, she was sure he would have made a spit-take.

“Engaged?! As in engaged to be married?” Dick's voice was raised a little too loud and he had a little too much indignation.

She turned to him, her heat rising. “Yes, Dick. Engaged to be married. Promised to one another. Betrothed. On the road to getting hitched.” She was snarling, but she didn't seem to care. “Did you think I would spend the rest of my life pining after you?”

Dick looked like he was just slugged in the stomach. He averted his eyes and said, “Sorry. I just...I was just surprised.”

Barbara grumbled and returned to her screens. “It isn't like you weren't with plenty of other women after me.”

Dick coughed again. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Like you said, Grayson, all us vigilantes know each other. I've talked to Roy, Wally and Donna. At least my fiancee was human, not a golden, alien, sex princess.”

Dick grimaced at the revelation that she knew about his short lived romance with Starfire. If he was going to throw Jason in her face then she'd throw his failed engagement in his.

Barbara remembered the day she found out that Dick and Starfire were an item. She told herself that she didn't care, but it was hard for her not to care when her ex was involved with a woman who would put every single super model on Earth to shame. And yes, that might be one of the reasons why she said yes to Jason after he had been asking her to marry him for months. Dick had moved on and she would damn well move on as well.

Dick, looking chastened, asked in a small voice, “So what happened between you two?”

“You first!” she snapped back.

Dick sighed and said, “Like you said, Kory is an alien. We had a lot of good times together and I learned a lot from her, but I guess we were from two different worlds, literally and figuratively.” He took a long pause and added, “Plus, I guess I had too much baggage for us to be truly happy together. She saw it even when I refused to.”

_Wow, I did not expect him to be so honest._ Barbara paused, not sure if she wanted to join in the sharing circle. She took off her glasses and rubbed at tired eyes. She swallowed nervously. _Guess it's my turn_.

“Jason was a nice guy. A really nice guy. Any woman would be happy to be with someone like him.” She stretched her arms and back, trying to cover her nervousness. “But, I realized that I didn't love him the way he loved me. I wasn't ready to commit to being his wife. And it wouldn't have been fair to him if I stayed. So, I didn't. We broke up, I moved back in with my dad and a few months later..." She paused and quickly added, "I ended up in this chair.”

“Oh,” It was all Dick was able to say. He looked ashamed for starting the conversation in the first place.

“Yeah, well...”

Barbara pushed the keyboard back to it's storage configuration, unlocked her chair and moved back to the driver's seat. She started the engine and drove back to the highway as Dick changed back into his civvies in the back. This time, she didn't watch him.

Dick joined her in the front and they drove in silence for several minutes.

He cleared his throat and said, “You know it's not too late.”

“For what?”

“If you still like him...” There was plenty of hesitation in his voice, but at the end of the day, Dick was a good guy. “I'm sure you can try again--”

“No”

“Just because you're in a wheelchair doesn't mean you can't still find love. You're still smart, funny, beautiful and...”

Dick looked over at her and stopped talking. He must have seen the tears rolling down her face.

 


End file.
